Predator: tale of a survivor
by Survivor 11
Summary: As earth lay in ruins, humanity fight for its survival. Tox, a lone scavenger, help a strange being from another world, leading him to discover a dangerous and brutal society.
1. Chapter 1

_All right so this is the first time I publish something here. The first chapter is quite heavy in description/explanation to establish the world and characters that will be involved. Reviews are appreciated as I try to better my writing skills, so if you spot sentences that are hard to understand or excessive repetition that I might have missed, please let me know !_

Chapter 1

- Earth, 2110-

As the sun rose from its slumber, bringing to the devastated earth its scorching heat and blinding light, another being was waking up. Tucked away between two fallen walls, Tox was slowly and painfully dragging himself away from his dreamless sleep. The frigid cold of the night was already being replaced by the dry and unrelenting heat, and the small space he crawled in last night to get some much needed rest was already hot as a sauna…whatever that was.

Crawling out of the hole, he looked around him, making sure he wasn't attracting some unneeded attention. When he was certain the way was clear he stood up, his bones cracking like dry twigs from the uncomfortable position he slept in. Bringing a hand to his gas mask to wipe away the sand that clung to his lenses, he quickly reviewed his schedule for the day.

He'd heard of a small town not far from here who was supposed to still contain some pretty good loot, mainly canned food and bottled water. He would have to follow the highway to get to it but that meant skulking through the blasted city for a few miles before reaching it. If he hurried he could be one the first to get there before scavengers raided the place… well scavengers other than him anyway.

Tox grabbed his leather-bounded flask only to put it down, realizing how little water was left in it – he would need has much as he could on the long walk ahead and to drink it before he even started was a really bad idea. He made the mistake of not rationing the precious liquid once and had been forced to drink a puddle of infected water, causing him to fall ill for a few days. He'd survived, but learned his lesson.

His eyes scouted the blasted landscape, evaluating the different routes he could take. Most buildings were crumbling to dust, providing cover and protection from both the sun and snipers, which were numerous in these parts. A good majority of the doors were gone, providing easy access in and out of their dark and sheltered belly. The solo scavengers knew how to use them to their advantage and it was common knowledge to those who chose to follow this trade.

Sewers were a bad idea – it stank and crawled with hungry critters that could tear a full grown man to pieces in a matter of minutes. Rats were dangerous, carrying diseases that would drive anyone insane in a matter of hours, causing them to literally claw their faces to death. A simple bite meant death, and the nomad treasured his life too much to take that sort of risk.

The open roads were out the question too - it was the favorite playground of scum like raiders and bandits who would most likely pack some deadly hardware.

Slowly he made a mental itinerary he would follow, carefully planning every steps he would take. He knew some good shortcuts and hiding spot as well as territory he should avoid. His knowledge of the surroundings greatly helped in his day to day struggle for survival - he could look at a map and almost instantly spot a safe route. Every good nomad/scavenger had this gift, making them a slippery bunch who could escape trap with a natural ease bordering the supernatural.

That was his life, as it always had been. Every day he would wake up, determine what he needed and walk to go get it. He didn't have a job, he didn't have money and he sure as hell didn't have a home. And he didn't care. All he needed was on him, stored away in one of his bags or pouches. Why would he settle anyway ? So some village could impose its laws on him and tell him what to do ? To settle down with a woman and have a bunch of kids ? He preferred his dangerous and adventurous life thank you very much.

He generally moved in the shadows, staying away from busy roads and crowded areas. People meant traders, traders meant valuable stuff and valuable stuff meant bandits. Those guys were ruthless, crazed assholes who didn't hesitate to shoot at you for your belongings. Tox had some encounters with them in the past and even though he got out with all his limbs it wasn't the kind of experience he wanted to repeat.

Not that he was completely defenseless either. A good fighter both in hand to hand combat and with something sharp in his hands, he also knew how to shoot a gun but he usually used his to scare people away when they pissed him off. A gun made to much noise, and noise attracted attention he could go without.

Yawning one last time he grabbed his heavy backpack, straighten his coats until they were lose and comfortable and began walking silently. Most people were unnerved by his quiet behavior, finding it creepy and annoying. Tox on the other hand hated loud folks who thought too much of themselves. Chaos was surrounding them and noise only added to it. He'd put a lot of effort and training to become invisible to other human beings and he wasn't about to stop to please random individuals who encountered him on the roads.

Trying to move as fast as he could to take advantage of the lingering shadows, he kept a constant watch of his surroundings, scanning spots most likely to hide either bandits, snipers or bandit snipers. He knew he wasn't the only one around in these parts even if it looked like it – getting lazy and letting your guard down was the only thing some of these guys were waiting for. Tox had witnessed first-hand too many experienced scavengers fall under the cheap shots of snipers as a result of them becoming too cozy with their environment.

Has he moved through the ruins from cover to cover, the sun kept climbing higher and higher in the cloudless sky. The heat from it seared the air, making anyone without proper breathing apparatus eventually gag and choke on the dry and dust filled oxygen. A gas mask was an absolute necessity and Tox made his lasts, repairing it with duct tape when the inevitable holes and cracks appeared. They were hard to come by, full-face ones at least, and seeing as trading was not one of his fortes he tried to keep them until they literally crumbled to dust.

To completely shield himself from the sun and his baking rays he wore layers upon layers of different type of clothing - thick and heavy ones being his favorites. Both keeping his skin from literally burning and offering a degree of protection against shrapnels, it also provided him with numerous places to hide his valuables. To top it off he also wore a hooded cape, hiding his backpack under it and wrapping himself in it during the night.

Taking a quick jog to clear the distance between two buildings, he heard the distant echo of a gunshot reverberate through the still air. A spray of debris on one of his old military boots confirmed that it was aimed at him and he hastily jumped to cover, landing hard on the dusty ground. _Some of those assholes are getting smart_, he said to himself while dusting his jacket with one of his gloved hands. Not the type to hold a grudge, he ducked under the windows to escape, only to be stopped by a barrage of bullets at the opposite edge of the crumbling wall.

Gritting his teeth under his mask Tox sought an alternate route, looking for ruins through which he could escape. Too bad for him the edifices surrounding his were too badly damaged to provide any form of cover. He sighed as he pulled out his pistol from his coat, making sure a bullet laid in the barrel.

Rapidly etching a plan to uncover the sniper, he snatched a dried up wood plank from the ground. Holding it out in his outstretched hand while he positioned himself under a near window, he slightly poked it off the edge, trying to catch the sight of the shooter. Locking his breath he wiggled the plank in plain sight as he raised his head out the window, his eyes trying to catch the muzzle flash of the weapon as it fired at the piece of wood. Quickly ducking down again the nomad smiled to himself. _Three hundred feet, second story, third balcony to the right, laying position_ he burned the vision in his mind, calculating the angle of the shot he would have to take.

He readied himself, putting his now free hand on the pistol for maximum stability. He had one shot at this. If he missed, the sniper would probably not and he'd be dead before he even realized he had been hit. He breathed deeply, calming his nerves so his hands remained steady. Tapping the rhythm of his heart with his foot, he exhaled slowly. As time seemed to slow down, between two palpitations he made his move. Placing his elbow on the windowsill he rapidly took aim and squeezed the trigger before bending down again.

Seconds passed before the scavenger heard the coward scream in pain. Making haste, he broke out in an all out sprint, rushing to the apartment building where his target hid. He practically flew over the stairs to reach the second floor, following the low whimper of the incapacitated sniper.

He found the empty apartment, his heart racing in his chest and sweat burning his eyes under his mask. The door was lying on the floor giving him a clear view of the interior; it was a simple two rooms place consisting of a small hallway that connected a bathroom to an open kitchen and a living room/bedroom. A set of busted glass sliding doors gave access to the balcony where the now injured sniper stood, face down and grabbing his throat as blood spurted in quick succession.

Grabbing his knife strapped to his bicep, Tox stealthily walked to him, loving the feel of the blade in his hand. The injured man never noticed his presence before the sharp blade pierced through his ribs then to his heart, squealing before giving up his last breath.

''It didn't need to come to this friend. May the after-life be peaceful to you'' Tox simply stated to the corpse, wiping his blade on the dark shirt it wore. Hate was something the nomad didn't really grasp. He didn't hate the man he just killed, he pitied him. The world was a harsh and cruel place and the lifeless body at his feet proved that.

Maybe the man had kids he needed to feed or even a wife and with resources as scarce as they were he may had been forced to live like this to bring sustenance to others. Such were the questions that Tox asked himself every time he took a life. He didn't feel remorse for his actions – he just did what he had to do to survive. Such were the ways of the ruins. If you didn't comply to them you died, as simple as that.

Putting those thoughts aside he searched the guy bag for loot, finding a half empty bottle of water and two cans of food he put in his own bag. The bullets were useless to him so he left them. He also disassembled the semi-automatic rifle and scattered the pieces, not wanting to find another sniper at the exact same location when he'd walk by there again.

The scavenger looked at his pants, basically holding together with tape and shoelaces, and decided to strip the corpse of his, which were clean and hole-free. The black cargo pants were a close fit and Tox appreciated this find – at least now sand would have a tough time finding a way to his thighs. In one of the pocket he also found a working lighter as well as a metal case containing some joints, which were an extremely rare treat in these times. He would keep those, that's for sure.

Now in a good mood even though he had been shot at a few moments before he exited the building, leaving the body to rot under the sun.

**- A few hours later**-

Tox was making good progress, his nimble feet eating away the distance while he stayed completely out of sight. Midday was coming and most of the shadows were gone, forcing him to move from building to building. He would have to stop soon as noon was the hottest time of the day, and walking while you had the impression of boiling in your own juices was too much of a pain to bother. Spotting an old factory which still had its roof in the distance, he made his way there.

The place was a standard red brick, rectangular factory about six stories high. One of its walls was covered in broken windows, giving a slight insight of what was inside. Rocket impacts were visible and numerous bullet holes riddled its red surface, telling that it was once used as a stronghold of sort to one of the bandit group that roamed the area. The edifice seemed derelict now.

Unsheathing his own made sword, he cautiously entered the building, already appreciating the slightly cooler air inside. Even though the place appeared devoid of life, the experienced nomad knew better than to trust his first impressions. Sticking to the walls he began exploring the decrepit factory, skulking in the dark like a deadly whisper.

The vast working space was littered with junk of all kind, ranging from empty cans to dirty rags. Disused machines had been stripped for parts, their empty shells now home to venomous spiders. Long dried blood splatters covered some walls, witness to the violence that had once took place there. Tox found some bones to confirm it.

A set of cement stairs led to the sub-levels. They were cool and dark, providing a refreshing change to the burning hot and blinding exterior that made you wince without tinted lenses or sunglasses. Spanning two levels, the basement was mostly empty and had previously been used to store excess materials. Empty rolls of metal wires and old wooden boxes were scattered here and there between supporting columns. A disused elevator pit gave access to all levels on the south wall.

Satisfied that he was indeed alone, the nomad allowed himself to breath normally, taking of his mask to wipe the sweat off his brows. Security was hard to find these days, and every moment of respite was deeply appreciated. Letting the somewhat fresh air fill his lungs, he put his sword back in its place.

Finding himself a spot on the dusty floor he put his backpack down, relieved to have this burden of his back for an hour or two. He already had to endure the crushing weight of both a chainmail and different pieces of armor he made on his own, using old street signs mostly, to better protect himself during a fight. Some called it overkill, he called it survival. Besides it strengthen him as he walked.

A Kevlar vest would've been nice, but he hadn't come across one of those in years. A good majority of them were lost during the initial blasts a hundred years back. Soldiers and policemen had then requisitioned the rest to keep the panicked masses from slaughtering their forces while they tried to restore peace. It didn't work and the world slowly tore itself apart, the valuable items lost in fights and ambushes.

Tox carefully sipped some drop of his flask, loving the wetness on his tongue and throat. Most people in the ruins died of dehydration as water supplies were really scarce. Rain was non-existent and most lakes and rivers had dried up following the Big Bang. The atmosphere had thinned after the massive explosions, letting the sun rays evaporate the earth water supply in a matter of years.

This had a devastating effect on the planet flora. She withered and died as most of its plants were not conditioned to survive in such extreme environments. The farmlands of the world were quickly wiped out, leaving once fertile grounds scorched plains of sands unfit to grow nothing more than cactuses and tumbleweeds.

Cattle followed, hunger and starvation taking its toll as they were unable to find the precious grass they so desperately needed. The putrid stench of their corpses still lurked over old farms like the ghost of a once thriving and growing society. Fresh meat was now provided by stray dogs and wild animals unlucky enough to cross the path of scavengers like Tox. They tasted ok and their pelts could be used to make clothing, leather and keep one warm during the freezing nights.

Forests became graveyards of leafless trees, their bark bleached by the sun and the wind like dried bones. Flash fires were common and had wiped dozens of towns from the globe, casting ominous black clouds of smoke that could linger in the air for weeks. What those fires left in their wake were known as ashlands, gray landscapes completely devoid of life that could stretch for miles and where you could walk knee deep in cinder. Nobody ventured there anymore.

What had once been a blue planet full of life was reduced to nothing but ruins and deserts, a barren wasteland hostile to all who had the misfortune to be born on her wretched surface. Groups of survivors formed through the chaos and desperation, realizing that united they stood a better chance of survival. These groups quickly expanded, growing in number each day until they were too big to properly move.

Most of them established makeshift villages through the ruins, settling down near stream of fresh water when they could find them or blasted buildings rich in loot of all kinds. Some of those became well known by loners and traders alike, who made frequent stop to replenish their food supplies or to barter stuff they didn't need.

Blue villages, those near a steady water supply, could grow a small number of fresh veggies and fruits in underground greenhouses, providing greatly needed vitamin to keep diseases like scurvy at bay. They sold those at a very high price, perfectly knowledgeable of their monopole in the matter. To get them you either had to trade very valuable loot, the kind you wanted to keep for yourself, or be in the favors of the village chief. Of course you could always decide to become part of the place, in which case you gained access to a daily ration.

People who didn't want anything to do with those settlements, like Tox, had to find other ways to obtain vitamin, relying on supplements in capsules easily found in what remained of the numerous drugstores and pharmacy scattered in the cities. These locations were considered a trade secret by the scavengers and the unspoken rule was to keep it that way. Hidden supplies where sometimes left behind in caches for other nomads to find.

As he put back his flask Tox remembered the half empty bottle he looted from the sniper. He unscrewed the cap and smelled the liquid, satisfied to see it seemed clean, albeit a little foggy. He put it in his own receptacle, discarding the plastic bottle once it was empty. With the added content his flask was almost full again, which would buy him some time before he'd have to look for more.

With a satisfied sigh he slowly sit, his tired muscles silently thanking him by sending a wave relief to his brain. He briefly shut his eyes, savoring the comfort of the floor and the silence of the place. Through small windows near the ceiling he could see the bright midday light shine. Wanting to celebrate his quick progress, he grabbed the metal case he scavenged earlier and opened it, revealing the aromatic content inside.

The eight tubes were pretty fat, perfectly rolled to look exactly like normal cigarettes. Tox hadn't smoked in a while and the green weed quickly went to his head, relieving him of all the stress he had accumulated over the last months. Each inhalation of the harsh smoke sent him further and further into his thoughts, bending the way his mind worked.

He felt totally relaxed, his eyes as red as the blood he spilled earlier that day. With his middle finger he flicked the hot amber from the joint, deciding to keep the rest for the evening. With a smile he hid the case away in one his pockets, which took him a little more time than it should've.

Having nothing else to do he dug out one of his favorite pass time: his sharpening stone. The once rectangular stone was now small, flat and round, fitting perfectly in the palm of his gloved hands. Tox had created a bundle of knives during his twenty two years on earth, and he made sure each and every one of them was as sharp as it could be. Sheets of metal were easy to come by, primarily from old road signs, giving him plenty of opportunities to satisfy his hobby.

Even though he only used two, his sword and a hunting knife strapped to his left biceps, he liked to keep a few more around. Not only were they amusing to sharpen, it gave him something to trade when he absolutely had to. He was well known among traders and they gladly gave him quality goods in exchange. Tox also provided them with some unusual weapons, ranging from swords to spears to concealed ones like sharpened spoons or throwing stars.

The scavenger grabbed a tightly rolled piece of leather held closed by two laces from his backpack and opened it, revealing his set of knives. Varying in size and shape they were all in pristine condition, their blades shining in the dim light with a metallic glow. Tox had personalized a few with carved wooden handle hydrated with animal oil and sealed with wax from old candles, procuring them a nice, elegant appearance.

He slowly slid one of them off his sheath, careful not to cut himself over the already insanely sharp blade. He brought the knife to his eye, aligning the blade so he could observe the cutting edge and spot sections that needed a little more work. If it was done right it was virtually invisible, able to cut through several layers of clothes and muscles like warm butter and keep on cutting until it met a bone or exited on the other side, most of the time with a bloody result.

His eye quickly noticed an irregularity, the cutting edge deviating by a tenth of a millimeter near the heel, impeding it to be the sharpest it could be. The problem was not enough to use the stone - he instead grabbed his rat-tail file. With a swift and precise movement he expertly slid the blade against it, realigning the edge to a perfect and deadly sharpness.

Satisfied he grabbed the next one. Then the third, and so on and so forth. Like that, time drifted away, the nomad snapping out of it when shadows began to crawl on the walls again. Yawning before repositioning his mask tightly over his face he put everything back in his backpack and painfully stood back up, his butt giving the impression to have been replaced with mashed potatoes.

In a few minutes he was back outside, his tall frame cloaked once again behind the rubbles as he made his way toward the highway.

Chapter 1.5

Close to Jupiter, hidden under a thick invisibility cloak, a vessel approached, its anti-matter engines pushing it directly toward Earth with an eerie silence and incredible speed. The ship was a last generation scientific transport for a race of inter-planetary hunters called the Yautja, most of the times referred to as Predators on Earth.

Its interior was like that of any other Yautja race ship; the walls and ceiling were richly decorated with carved murals and symbols, depicting intense fights or telling stories of past victories. They were made of an alloy whose color was greatly similar to copper, giving the rooms and corridors a rich and clean look. Dim lighting fixture provided a warm, orange glow that tinted the methane and nitrogen fog that lingered on the floor.

Here and there banners sporting the symbol of the ship's clan were hung on a wall or the ceiling. Numerous skulls of unknown animals could be found, pinned on spikes for display and as decorations of sort, imprinting the place with a deep tribal feel. The personnel quarters varied in appearance, changing according to the personal taste of who inhabited them.

The labs, located near the engines at the rear end of the ship, were vast and silent. A different color pattern reigned, the copper replaced with tints of dark grey steel and the engravings making place to red holographic displays that offered to the view a continuous stream of readings. A wide variety of machines filled the numerous rooms, their consoles awaiting the codes that would spring them to life.

At the opposite end of the vessel, in what was called the hunters hall, five tall figures stood under an imposing arch, its rounded form casting intermittent burst of bright light. Three large, rectangular columns formed a triangle under it, each of those displaying in detail the different stage of a hunter's life, from the first kill to his death at the hands of a worthy opponent.

Four of the five Yautjas were loudly talking between each other. Those were Young Bloods, hunters who had just made their first kill. Still too inexperienced to return to their respective clan's ship and take on intelligent preys on their own, they had been assigned to an elder, who would teach them the rudimentary of the hunt. Taking a life was the first step that initiated the training, and the teacher would stick with them until they were ready to continue on the Blooded rank, where they would undertake hunts with the rest of their respective clan.

It was the teacher's task to make sure each and every one of his students passed their Blooded ceremony. Failing there generally meant death and brought dishonor to the clan name, which was considered worse than the cold embrace of the reaper. Most dishonored hunters, having failed to eliminate their prey or killed a dishonorable target, committed suicide in shame, safeguarding the honor the clan while removing themselves from society.

If they didn't they were tracked down and eliminated by a specialist cast of experienced hunters called the Arbitrators, old Yautjas tired of regular hunts and eager to restore order. Killing one of their own was the ultimate thrill, and they enjoyed it beyond anything else. There was an old saying that stated you would only see the Arbitrator hunting you when your head was on his trophy wall.

The teacher that was on board the vessel was himself an arbitrator, and a very good one it was said. Each elder had to, at point, take under his wing Young Bloods, and it was his turn. Elders didn't train members of their clan, preventing any form of favoritism to take hold. Four Young Bloods of different ships were assigned to them and followed them for twenty years, learning what they could about the hunt and its laws.

The training was long, painful and very tiring, almost driving the younglings insane. Punches, kicks, humiliation and starvation were common ways to reprimand incapable students, forcing them to always give the maximum of their capabilities. Teachers were a very hard to please and deeply hated group that accepted nothing under exceptional.

''Shut up you four and listen up !'' roared the instructor to his students, his deep voice easily covering theirs. The Young Bloods immediately stopped talking, afraid to piss off the big male. ''Now, if any of you as given the slightest bit of attention to what I've been saying in the last few days, you'll be able to tell me the name of the specie's that inhabit the planet we are currently heading to. Student Teref'sul ?'' he asked the smallest male of the group.

Fidgeting nervously under the piercing gaze of his teacher, the young Yautja scraped the bottom of his brain to remember his teachings. ''Ehhh…'' he started before receiving a powerful punch right in the face.

''Don't you dare hesitate in front of me !'' exploded Yuta'nektil, flaring his mandibles in annoyance and anger. ''I want an immediate answer or not at all, understood ?!'' he punctuated his last words with another devastating punch that sent Teref'sul to the ground. ''Now, do any of who you have an answer or should I cut one of your fingers ?!''

''Were going to the home world of the Oomans, Instructor.'' responded a tall and muscular Young Blood, confidence reading across his face.

''I see that at least one of you take his training seriously.'' The arbitrator gave a reproachful look to the rest of his students. ''That is right Student Juka'fero. If any of you dimwits remember I have volunteered this group to protect one of our beloved Sister while she collect samples from the planet.'' At the sound of the word Sister the small group emitted a powerful wave of male pheromones.

Trying to get scent out of his nose he barked: ''If you want to survive the trip back to the home ship, you will keep your damned pheromones in check ! You're hunters, not fucking animals so control yourselves !''

The young males all looked down to the floor in shame, their scent quickly fading away, giving the instructor a much needed breath of fresh air. He understood them – they weren't supposed to be exposed to a female this early in their lives. Usually a hunter would meet a female only after he'd achieved Blooded rank and collected a few prestigious trophy to prove their valor as breeders.

Yuta'nektil had pulled some ancient strings he had with high ranking elders and Grand Mothers to obtain the right to itch a ride on the scientific vessel on its way to the once blue planet. He'd learned that a Sister was going to be onboard a day before they departed – she was a last minute replacement for the male originally supposed to go who had apparently blown himself to pieces during a weapon test.

This escort mission was going to be perfect to teach them extensive hiding techniques in a hostile environment, and hostile this planet definitely was. After the Oomans had bombed themselves to near extinction more than a hundred years ago, the planet had become off limit to every hunters without proper authorization. Only experienced Yautjas were supposed to hunt there, and it was only by promising not kill anything that the instructor had obtained the right to set foot on its burned surface.

He and his group would only be scouting the areas near the ship while the female would collect samples and take readings. He'd met her before they departed and was convinced she didn't even need their help to be safe – she wasn't the most impressive Sister he had encountered, but she had intelligent, calculating eyes that freaked him out a little. He had a six sense when it came to size someone, and it was yelling at him to stay away from her.

Her presence among them had caused him more pain than he thought he would get, finding himself obligated to constantly keep a close watch over the hormone filled males. Internal fighting and almost constant arguing was plaguing the group since they got onboard, the female pheromones floating in the air driving them a little over the edge. Luckily for him she had isolated herself in her lab, preventing any direct contact with the jumpy bunch who would've killed each other over her.

His gang was composed of young, half-witted males without much experience that would probably shoot themselves in the head with a plasma caster while trying to look down the barrel. They were eager to prove themselves and that made them reckless and daring in a very bad way, with the sole exception of Juka'fero - the youngling had potential and was on his way to become a capable and cunning hunter. He kept his cool around his teammates and didn't take part in any of the numerous fights. _I'll leave him to look after the Sister while I go teach those morons _thought Yuta'nektil while discreetly observing the young male.

''Instructor, may I ask a question ?'' demanded Kuji'janah, a Young Blood missing his lower right mandible. His light frame made him a fast and agile long range hunter, preferring to stalk his prey and wait for the opportune time to strike by learning his habits while safely hidden. His choice brought him unpleasant mockery from his peers, calling him weak and fearful of a real fight.

''Do ask Student Kuji'janah'' replied the instructor, appreciating the polite tone the young male used.

''If I understand correctly, we are not to engage in any hunt while on the planet surface, right ?'' Yuta'nektil approved by clicking his mandible. ''But what if we are attacked ? Are we to defend ourselves or flee ?'' Protests arose from the group at the idea of having to run away from a prey.

''You won't even need to run Kuji'janah, you're always so damn far from us you aren't even in harms way !'' snorted Basj'shank, the tallest and most muscular of the four Young Bloods. He was the total opposite of the sniper, loving close combat with a passion.

''At least I can run, you big cretin !'' retorted the light male before he dodged a punch aimed at his jaw. ''See ? You're slow !''

''Shut up both of you !'' intervened Yuta'nektil before the insults turned into an all-out battle, his strong voice once again bringing an end to the bickering. _They need to get out of this ship to spend some of that energy before they really jump at each others throats ! _he thought, feeling the tension between the members of his group.

''Now, to answer your question Student Kuji'janah: if an Ooman engage you in battle it is your duty to end his life - that is one of the laws we live by, but you are not to open the hostilities first ! You can track, you can observe but aggression toward them is strictly prohibited. I will not tolerate any fuck ups on your behalves and if any of you disobey I will personally make sure your skull end up on my wall, is that clear ?''

The young hunters reluctantly agreed – they got to go to one of the most prized hunting ground and they wouldn't even be able to kill something ? Disappointment was thick in the air and the instructor could sense it, worried that their desire to hunt would bypass any threats he'd made and cause them to do something incredibly stupid. _Time to disappoint them even further._

''As an added safety measure your energy weapons will be deactivated remotely. I am in control of them and will be the only one to grant permission to fire.'' The students growled in annoyance. ''Your wristblades, naginata and combi-sticks are still in your control as well as Kuji'janah's spear launcher but that doesn't mean you get to use them. Have I made myself clear ?''

Before they could answer, a mechanical voice echoed through the ship. ''Entering the planet atmosphere in one height.'' the automatic pilot announced. ''All passengers to set foot on the surface are to prepare immediately.''

With sighs of relief the hunters made their way to their quarters, quickly putting on whatever gear they brought with them. They were all in possession of highly advanced masks with built in neuro-sensitive lenses capable of modifying the visual spectrums in which the user could see. Different analysis systems, air purifying filters, real-time map displays and weapon status scanners completed it, making an intricate and valuable piece of hardware. They were all different in appearance, modified to fit the wearer taste or represent a particular clan style.

The younglings also wore a pair of bracers, hiding retractable blades on one arm and housing the control unit for their personal cloaking systems on the other. Some integrated samples analyzer for organic compound that would cause the mask hud to highlight anything with matching elements, perfect to track down a lost prey. The bracers also served a more sinister role; in the event that a hunter failed in his hunt or was facing capture by another race, a series of codes were entered and would send the plasma weapons anti-matter power supply into a critical failure, causing a thermonuclear explosion that would take out both the ashamed Yautja and his technology, assuring no traces were left behind. If this power supply was absent or damaged, a signal was sent to a ''clean-up'' warrior who traveled to the planet and destroyed anything related to his specie.

An electric heating net jumpsuit was connected to the cloaking systems, providing conduits for the electromagnetic current that wrapped the light around the hunter to ensure integral and precise invisibility in a matter of seconds. The nets strong and flexible material had designated them as the standard clothing worn on board the ships by the males, combined with a simple loin cloth to cover their privates. The numerous armored plates that composed the hunter armor were also attached to it.

This was all very standard equipment devoid of any additional functions. As they got older and more experienced the younglings were going to amass earnings and develop contacts allowing them to purchase upgrades and new materials that would give them an edge against more diverse species of prey. Certain clan however enforced the use of specific weapons or technology, some preferring to hunt without cloaking field or energy powered equipment.

The small group hadn't been outside the ship for a long time and was eager to have solid ground beneath their feet. They all rushed to the deck in a concert of heavy footsteps and metallic clicking, excitement thick around them.

****

Ara'ni-Sila was absorbed in her notes when the automatic pilot message echoed in her lab. The tall, perfectly muscled female blinked a couple of times to readjust her sight, having stared too long at the red holographic image produced by her portable console. Setting it aside she cracked her joints and yawned, getting on her feet to grab her sampling kit, bracers and medicomp. Tapping the console on the side of the bracers, they automatically adjusted to her wrist size to a tight fit while she strapped the rest to her belts.

During the weeks she'd passed in the confine of her lab the female had adjusted the internal atmosphere of this part of the vessel so it replicated the condition present on the Oomans home world, her scientific mind eager to experience the effect on her body. While harsh at first, her lungs seemed to adapt to the methane and nitrogen poor air, removing her need to wear her mask when she would set foot on the planet. Because of this the hermetic doors leading to the labs were sealed automatically to prevent a full contamination of the ship air supply. A side effect of this was to keep the over-stimulated males from disturbing her, and that made her very happy.

Like most Yautja females she had a very bad temper when it came to males, spending her whole childhood with her mother and surrounded by members of her sex. Her clan only birthed females and was deeply respected for that – males of great lineage would've killed to mate with them, collecting prestigious trophies as offerings for the right to even gaze upon them. The only problem was that the Sila clan only reproduced to replace its dead, and that could take a very long time.

Since motherhood wasn't important to them they would spend this time studying and training their minds and body. Most of the clan held high position in society as advisors, researchers, strategist for military campaign or Grand Mothers, direct consultant to the queen herself. Others patrolled the borders of the clan territory back on the home planet, keeping each and every intruders at bay with a ruthless efficiency.

Ara'ni despised every males she had encountered, finding them primitive and short sighted, easily fighting each other over unimportant matters. She saw them as drooling idiots who weren't worthy of the species they recklessly hunted for sport, not even trying to understand their society or motivations. She could respect the amount of effort they put in training to better themselves but the way they acted when they smelled her odor completely overridden this. Females turned on by the skulls they brought back didn't held a big place in her heart either.

The door silently opened as she walked to it, her eyes once again locked on her holographic tablet. Profoundly curious about foreign worlds she'd agreed to the trip when it was offered to her, despite the short notice and the overwhelming presence of five males onboard. She didn't really understood what samples from the planet surface would tell the scientist back on her planet, but the opportunity to visit ''Earth'' was too good to pass.

Despite everything she'd heard about the Oomans, she found the destructive race highly interesting. The Yautjan database had very little info concerning them, but she'd read them over and over, memorizing the info and planning a list of things she would study while she was on the planet.

Apparently they once were a thriving, ever evolving society centered on riches and personal gain. Clans only consisted of a few individuals with familial bonds, breaking up when the offspring's were old enough to fend off on their own. Wars were constant and fought over fuel, religious differences or territorial dominance, eventually making them unleash new weapons too powerful that drove them to the brink of extinction. The planet atmosphere was greatly thinned, causing a major climate change that turned the lush planet to an arid desert.

Following this the data was scarce and random, mostly hunting trips reports poorly describing anything valuable to the Sister. She slowly made her way to the transitional section between the labs and the rest of the scientific vessel, reluctantly returning the atmosphere to normal and unlocking the airtight door. She could already smell the musk of the young males and it made her sick, regretting her decision to go unmasked.

_I should've built an odor repellent for it, that way I wouldn't have to worry about puking my guts. It's already bad enough they're going to be eying me like piece of meat._ She tried to hold her breath before reaching the bridge, the unpleasant smell growing in thickness to a point where she could taste it, but to no avail – it was in her nose and wasn't about to disappear. _I'll have to wash myself three times to get rid of it. This is unbearable !_ With a last sigh she walked onto the deck, flaring her mandibles to clearly state her displeased mood.

Near the hull doors, next to the hunters hall, the six males were checking and adjusting weapons and armors. Ara'ni-sila frowned and the view.

Their leader was dressed in a combination of armor, bones and metallic fibers clothing. Standing at roughly seven feet with perfectly toned muscles, his bronze skin made him nearly invisible against the walls of the ship, dark spots even simulating the shadows. Apparently he wasn't bringing any energy armament, has he didn't pack a mobile generator on his back.

A big, smelly and freakishly huge Yautja was looking at her with interest, his head cocked on one side. He towered over the other both in height and size, his naked upper body sporting bulging pecks and enormous arms. From the waist down heavy pieces of corroded armor covered entirely his leathery brown and beige skin, except for his jet black talons protruding from his toes.

His exact opposite stood a little behind, inserting forked spear tips into his launcher. His mask had a built-in three lenses scope over the right visor, providing faster and clearer image enhancing capabilities. He was small and light, looking like a twig next to his partners, teal skin making him stand out from the others even more.

Next to him, fiddling with his wrist computer, the smallest of the group pretended to not see her. His dark Kainde Amedha armor softly shone in the dim light, contrasting sharply against his green flesh. A large chitinous scythe was strapped to his back, apparently made out of a creature barbed tail. Noticing his feeble attempt to hide his interest failed, he quickly cloaked and vanished from view.

The only one who really didn't seem to care about her presence was an ordinary looking, simply equipped male standing next to his master in silence. Nothing particular could be said about him, other than he enforced the stereotypical way a Yautjan hunter was viewed. His only uncommon trait was ash gray skin, and even that didn't make him interesting.

With a deep hiss Yuta'nektil requested total silence from the group. ''Idiots and morons, this is Sister Ara'ni-sila. You will be making sure she is safe while she do whatever she needs to do, got it ?''

The males all mumbled incoherently in response while avidly looking at her, making her blood boil. In an instant she was upon them. She began with the big one, crushing his mask against his face with a wheel kick that send him backward before knocking the air out of his lungs with an uppercut to the solar plexus. She then grabbed the light one throat and lifted him of the ground, punching him several times in the stomach, making him gag and cough for air. She released him by throwing him to the floor with all her might. Spotting the shimmer of the cloaked male she brought him down with a simple but effective technique: a kick to the groin. Yelling in pain he fell to his invisible knees, cupping his hurt privates.

With a backward flip she distanced herself from them and assumed her previous position, coughing from the male musk smell. She'd left the arbitrator and the grey hunter alone - both of them hadn't done anything to piss her off.

''THEY are supposed to keep me safe ?'' she laughed with disdain, ''You males are only good to wipe the floor beneath my feet. I am ashamed our society count you as members.''

''Sister Ara'ni-sila I know this isn't to your taste but you will have to tolerate myself and those idiots for the duration of this trip." The arbitrator gestured to his downed students who were rubbing their injuries or still holding their crushed balls. "I you would just…''

''For your sake I suggest you shut your mouth right now !" The female mandibles were widely spread, signifying complete rage. "When we get out of this ship I better not see, ear or smell any of you. You will leave me alone or I swear none of you will walk again. Or reproduce…" She flicked her right wrist, producing two glistening and serrated blade from her gauntlet. "Got that ?'' she mimicked the tone the arbitrator used moments before.

A sudden rumble of the ship confirmed the landing had took place. ''All exiting personnel are to stand back from the doors'' mechanically warned the auto-pilot before the said doors opened with a loud hydraulic hiss, letting a bright yellow light penetrate the deck. The dry heat from the planet surface washed over the Yautjas as they stared outside. A sudden gust of wind brought sand and dust into the vessel, chasing away the nitrogen fog from the floor.

Excitement filled the female, quickly pressing a few button on her wrist computer so the invisibility cloak would drape over her before running out of the ship, ignoring the arbitrator who tried to stop her. The hot sun warmed her yellow skin comfortably as she ran, her feet barely making a sound on the sand-covered ground.

After she ran enough so the ship wasn't in view anymore she slowed down, reducing her furious pace to a lazy jog.

All around her ruins of tall buildings stood ominously over her, silent monoliths of a devastated race. Ara'ni-sila took a deep breath, savoring the fresh, non-recycled air that filled her lungs. Hidden behind her cloaking field she strode down a blasted street, her fingers taping vigorously on her tablet while she wrote her observations.

The dry heat and eerie silence was different from what she found on her home world – she was used to damp marshes filled with insects and animals sounds. The silence was oppressing, engulfing you in loneliness and making you look behind your back at every sound. Ara'ni-sila had visited a large number of worlds, but nothing came close to what she was experiencing right now, and she loved it.

Heap of rusted metal could be found all around the streets, once fast modes of transportation the humans had called ''cars''. They'd used hardened roads to move between settlements, some of those extending to great distances and crossing entire continents. Ara'ni kneeled, wiping the sand to uncover the dark, cracked substance they dubbed ''asphalt'', the word difficult to pronounce with her lipless mouth. She clawed it and grabbed a chunk, dropping it in her bag for analysis back on the ship.

Curious, she entered one of the tall construction, poking her head through the doorway to make sure the way was clear. Broken furniture's had been tossed around by vandals and never picked up, creating a chaotic mess that extended to the whole ground floor. She picked random bits of rubbles and put them with the asphalt chunk. Noticing a way to the upper floors, she calmly walked there.

The old wooden stairs creaked dangerously as she cautiously made her way up, amazed at how ingenious the building was built. Despite everything she expected, the female found what she saw more interesting than anything observed on the other worlds she visited.

The Oomans uses of basic materials was brilliant, using rocks and bonding agents in such a way they could erect impressive structures that withstood the test of time and the elements. Had they been more civilized to one another, their empire could've been a force to be reckoned with, but their desire for power and individualistic society instead drove them to the dark depth of near extinction.

Ara'ni-sila expected to find some traces of life in the building, turning every corner with the silent hope to come face to face with an Ooman, even if she was well aware she'd probably completely freak the humanoid out. She arrived in a vast, empty room with large broken windows that offered a clear view of the north ruins. Placing her datapad before her, she snapped a holographic picture for herself, intending to keep it as a souvenir.

A loud thump alerted her senses, her fist clenching and triggering her wristblades, the weapon breaking the cloak area of effect. Before she could turn around something knocked her to the ground, pinning her face down with its heavy weight. The blow disabled her invisibility field, sending blue sparks across her body. A foul smell overwhelmed her with a disgusting familiarity, easily identifying it as a male musk. Struggling to get free, sharp pain erupted from her wrists has cold metallic objects were driven through them. She roared as the same happened to each of her ankles joints, effectively preventing her to move or to get up.

From the corner of her eye she saw a grey foot, automatically recognizing the color.

''You better hope I don't get up !'' she hissed with rage, the pain in her joints fueling it. ''I'll make you bleed and scream until you beg me finish you off.''

Juka'fero laughed, kicking the female in the ribs to shut her up. ''If there's someone who's going to beg, it's you. You have no idea what you're in for. We'll be all alone for a long time. After all, Instructor Yuta'nektil did ask me to watch over you.''

The female shivered as she felt his hand on her, stroking her skin with lust. With horror she realized what he had in mind. ''If you even dare, I'll chop your balls off with my claws and make you eat them ! My clan will hunt yours down and remove it from existence ! You will yell..'' Another kick knocked the wind out of her, causing her to gag and cough as the taste of her blood filled her mouth. Trying to ignore the pain she desperately pulled to set herself free, the spikes in her joints only tearing more flesh.

Grabbing a handful of her dreads he yanked her ears to his mouth. ''You can struggle all you want, you're mine until I'm done with you. Go ahead, scream and squeal ! The rest of those idiots are far away, I made sure of it !'' He began unbuckling his armor, letting it fall to the ground as he gazed upon the lightly clothed female. The simple tabard she wore hid practically nothing of her curves and her scent was so overpowering it drove him mad. He couldn't help himself as he drooled in excitement.

He was so absorbed by his lust he didn't notice the human sneak his way into the room. Hiding in a patch of shadows, Tox didn't understand what he was seeing, wondering what the two beings were. He had been drawn to the place when he'd heard the roars from outside. Despite the animalistic tonality, he thought he noticed pain in one of them and that decided him to check it out.

Noticing one of them beginning to undress himself while the other was quite literally pinned to the floor, that woke a profound, forgotten fury that brought horrible and painful memory rushing to the surface of his mind. Not thinking anymore and acting purely as his instincts told him to, he grabbed his hunting knife and moved completely out of cover, shaking as adrenaline flowed through his veins. ''Hey asshole !'' he yelled at the grey humanoid.

Startled, Juka'fero turned around. Before him stood a small, hooded being with a mask on his face and a piece of metal in his hand. He knew Oomans still roamed the ruins, but never thought one would even try to attack him, let alone warn him before doing so. Annoyed that he was going to be delayed with his plan, he extended his wristblades and pointed them toward the puny thing. ''You're specie's is even dumber than I thought ! What do you think you're going to do, kill me ?'' he roared in his native language, hoping to scare the Ooman away so he could attend to his business with the female. ''Don't worry bitch, this won't take long.'' he said to Ara'ni-sila as he assumed his fighting stance.

The Yautja quickly launched himself at his adversary, swinging his blades directly to the human face. They ripped two deep gashes into his mask, red blood dripping from them, but failed to decapitate him as he intended. A strong punch followed, shattering the two tinted lenses and sending Tox to the ground. Juka'fero, already savoring his victory, walked to him, his fist clenched to deliver the killing blow.

''You're worthless ! Your head is not even worth the effort of making a trophy out of it !'' he snorted before lashing at the human on the floor. His laugh died in his throat when Tox quickly dodged the attack, stabbing his own knife between two ribs of the male, effectively piercing a lung and damaging the diaphragm. Juka'fero lost his breath, using his left hand to cover the wound. Using this opportunity, the human slid away from him and got up, wiping the blood from his mask. ''You'll pay for this !'' coughed the Yautja, launching himself again at the Ooman.

The wristblades would have sliced him in two if he hadn't deflected them with his left gauntlet, leaving two deep gashes into the armor. Tox counterattacked, unleashing a few quick slashes that made contact with Juka'fero armor, pissing him off even further. He tried to uppercut the male, only injuring his hand on the metal of the mask.

A strong direct punch to Tox ribs caused him to bend over, coughing blood in his mask and ruining his filter. As he struggled to breath the Yautja grabbed him by the throat and threw him at the wall where he crashed. Dazed he shook his head, jumping out of the way before Juka'fero crushed him under his foot. He slowly got up, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps and wincing when his broken ribs moved. Tox backed away, trying to figure out a way to get a clear shot at the soft flesh between and underneath the armor.

''Did you really think, you stood a chance against me ?'' coughed Juka'fero. ''You are prey, nothing more. Defying me was the last mistake you'll ever made.'' He once again charged, wristblades glistening with red blood.

Tox ducked under the blades before stabbing his knife deeply into the Yautja elbow, severing several layers of muscles and nerves and twistes the blade to dislocate the two bones, rendering the limb useless. The male roared in pain as his forearm went limp, luminescent green blood gushing out of the wound. He tried to fend off the attacking human with his valid arm only to receive another gash across his shoulder.

Tox, wanting to completely immobilize the huge being, kicked it in the ribs were he'd stabbed him, causing Juka'fero to reach again for his wound. Using this opening, he got behind him and slashed the Yautja behind each of his knees, the sharp knife making short work of the flesh. The scavenger brought him down with a well placed kick that bent the right leg outward, making him fall painfully on his back.

Blood rapidly pooled around the downed Yautja, who couldn't get up, each movement sending crushing waves of intense pain through his whole body. Satisfied he wouldn't bother anymore, Tox limped his way to the female, wiping his dented blade before sheathing it back while holding his broken ribs.

Long metallic spikes had been driven through her ankles and wrists to maintain her to the floor. She seemed to lose a lot of blood but she kept struggling while emitting loud roars of pain, turning her head from left to right in an effort to see what was going on behind her. Dragging his broken body so he was in front of her, he kneeled before her. He didn't know if the creature would understand him but he had to try – he just hoped she wouldn't jump on him when he broke her free. After all, her face wasn't even remotely human.

''I'm a friend'' he stated while designating himself with his free hand. ''I just want to help you.'' He mimed the act of pulling out a spike. Coughing a blood clot he spit after removing his badly damaged mask, he continued. ''Stay calm and try not to move.'' He looked into her eyes and was satisfied to see she seemed to calm down a little. Firmly grabbing the spike stuck in her right wrist and trying to ignore the silent cries of his ribs, he yanked with all his remaining might.

Caught in his own momentum he fell backward when the metal rod was released from the floor, landing heavily in an ocean of suffering. The pinned creature yelled too, her green blood now gushing freely from the wound. Tox tried to get up but the pain kept him on his back, his own body now a dead weight pressing against his chest. Between his feet he saw Ara'ni use her now free hand to pull the other spike out, her long dreads drenched in her blood as she howled and growled in pain.

She sorely got on her knees, taking a deep breath before yanking the last two restraints. Not wasting time she unhooked her medicomp from her belt, fumbling through it until she found a coagulating agent syringe she plunged deep into her abdomen. The pain was excruciating but beneficial – the compound was designed to stimulate the bone marrow to produce large quantities of blood platelet to accelerate coagulation and the formation of scabs in deep injuries.

Dragging herself on the floor she grabbed her holographic tablet, tapping with shaking claws different symbols on the screen. It rapidly started flashing, emitting a low beeping noise as a distress signal was sent to all nearby hunters.

''You're so dead you piece of shit !'' she growled to the heavily injured male, harboring enough strength to kick him the balls. Satisfied she turned her attention to the human, who was coughing up more blood as he laid on his back, both hands gripping his injured side in an effort to prevent his ribs from moving as he struggled to breathe.

_And who the hell are you ?_


	2. Chapter 2

_''Sorry it took so long. I basically had to write this twice since the original file got corrupted. I hope you'll forgive me. Anyway enjoy and review !''_

-Chapter 2-

''You've got to be kidding me, right ?'' growled the powerful female as she tended to her wounded wrists. ''You really think I would lie about this !?''

''All I'm saying is that your story seems a little farfetched. I mean, how could I even begin to believe that an Ooman willingly fought and defeated my best student while you were conveniently immobilized ? After all you clearly stated that you hated us males !'' Yuta'nektil was kneeling besides the now unconscious Juka'fero, his body resting in a pool of his own blood. ''And how lucky it is that the only witness to the whole scene cannot speak our language !''

''He prevented you're little pet from accomplishing his hideous task !'' she pointed to Tox, kept under control by the sharp blade of Teref'sul scythe pressed against his throat. She hissed at Teref'sul, who had trouble staying focused on his task, the presence of the tall female playing with his senses. ''If you even scratch him I will make sure you and your little smelly gang are declared Bad Bloods and hunted down for the rest of your pitiful lives.'' She paused, glaring directly into the arbitrator eyes under his mask. ''You know I can do it. My voice as more weight than yours in the Queen ear. So don't even tempt me.'' Had she been only injured to her arms, the taller female could've beaten the crap out of every males in the room, but with all the blood she'd lost and her ankles in pitiful state, the only thing she could do was lay on the ground and try to stop the hemorrhage from getting too important.

''So what do you suggest ? We kill my student without any proofs of your claims..''

''What are those if not proofs ?'' she raised her injured wrists, luminescent blood trailing down from the wounds. ''Are you so dumb and blinded by your own pride that you won't admit the evident truth ? Or is it because you are afraid that news of your failure as a teacher will spread across the ships ?'' Ara'ni-sila was well aware that if it was reported that one of the arbitrator student had been defeated, none the less by an Ooman, Yut'nektil would lose his rank and the privileges that came with it. Shame would be bonded to his name and death would be the only exit for him to retain his honor and the one of his clan. ''Do you plan to use cowardice as an excuse for letting a rapist live ?''

Yuta'nektil frowned at the term. Among his people, to mate with an unwilling female, especially with a Sila, was a crime punishable by immediate death. The whole clan and any one affiliated with the Yautja responsible of such an act were shunned by their society and sometimes exiled entirely. The female was right; to let Juka'fero live under these circumstances would be social suicide. But the arbitrator couldn't let go of his suspicion that something was aloof there. It seemed to easy of an excuse to get rid of one of his hunters. After all, Ara'ni-sila did make threats to all the males that if they tried to follow her, dire consequences would follow. Was this it ? Had she lost her mind after she found Juka'fero trailing her and was now using the Ooman as an excuse for her own actions ?

Ara'ni-sila was feeling light headed, her deep wounds bleeding continually even of she'd injected herself with medicine. The smell of the three males in the room was making her nauseous and impatience toward the old arbitrator made her cranky. She wanted to get out of the room, feel the warm Earth sun and breathe some fresh air.

''Could you think more slowly ?'' the female taunted the arbitrator. ''I don't have all day as I'm bleeding out right now, just like your precious little pet !'' She turned to the small Yautja keeping the Ooman in check. ''I think you can leave him alone you stupid hunter wannabe ! He was lying on his back for a reason !'' The one that had helped her looked like hell. He was coughing a large amount of blood every time he tried to breath and had started shaking despite the inferno that reigned. Her eyes only perceived the world in infrared, and she could tell Tox was getting colder by the minute. At this rate the three of them would be dead before Yuta'nektil had made his mind. ''Hurry up !'' she howled in annoyance.

_Don't she ever shuts up ?_ the Yautja asked himself, trying to ignore the female. He weighed his options carefully, keeping his interests in mind as well as the well-being of his students. Finally, after minutes that seemed like hour to the bleeding out female, he started:

''Now, I can't kill you for obvious reasons'' he growled, ''and I can't let you kill one of my students while you have no pertinent proofs of your claims.'' He ignored the complaints of Ara'ni-sila and continued. ''But it is my duty to seek the truth and as so I will let you return to the ship, along with Juka'fero. You will be confined to your labs until I can obtain a video meeting with a member of the Elders council. We may be facing a severe situation here, but it is no time to act irrationally. Satisfied ?''

''What of the Ooman ? Is he not to remain alive until a decision has been taken ?'' She didn't know why she said that, but in her mind it felt right, and when her head said something she listened… most of the time anyway.

''The Ooman shall be executed, as he stands defeated and is not one of our own. Our laws requires...''

''Now I know you're kidding !'' Ara'ni-sila exploded. ''If you abided by our laws then this hideous creature you call a student would already be dead and his corpse hung for all to see !'' she spitted while designating Juka'fero. ''You follow the laws when they suits you, you moronic piece of meat !''

''That's it ! You defy me another time and I leave you here to rot on this pile of blasted rocks !'' Yuta'nektil exploded, his deep voice echoing in the empty ruins. Silence fell on the group, the arbitrator breathing rapidly to cool off.

Ara'ni-sila stood there, dumbstruck at the outburst. Her left eye twitched slightly, her nerves now hard as steel wires and her mandibles slowly spreading as anger built inside her guts.

''And what will you do if you return to the home ship without me ?'' started the female as she painfully got on her weak legs, already towering the two males by her impressive height and size. ''What will you tell my clan ?'' Her voice took a dark, menacing tone, ''_You_ were supposed to protect me, you swore ! The contract you agreed to stated that I was to return safe and sound, violate this clause and you will find yourself in a world of hurt. My fellow Sisters will tear you apart if they hear something happened to me.'' The arbitrator flinched at the thought. ''We of the Sila clan are closely bonded to one another – to wrong one is to wrong the whole family. You fly away without me, you seal your own fate. Don't kid yourself that because we have restrained ourselves to one world we don't know how to hunt through the stars.. You_ will_ be tracked down, don't you worry about it.''

Despite her rage she had talked with an unnerving calm, each of her cold words slipping through her teeth like the sharpest blades. Any sign of warmth had left her blood red gaze, her eyes becoming pools of savage, calculating wrath ready to freeze your face with a look.

Yuta'nektil tried to hide is nervousness, but he could see Teref'sul literally shaking in his boots, no longer keeping the Ooman hostage with his scythe, which laid at his side. The air was impregnated with a strong, spicy smell the female exuded, completely covering her normal scent that usually drove all the young males crazy; it was the perfume of menace, hate, insanity and bloodlust. To piss off a female was a mistake a male really shouldn't do; they were stronger, faster, ruthless and completely deranged if given the opportunity. The old arbitrator knew everything she was saying to be completely true and that his options were limited to what _she_ wanted them to be.

No games were played anymore, she knew her sex had the upper hand in every situations, and she was determined to use this to her advantage now. Even if he was older, more experienced and of a higher rank, he was still _male_. No matter how much he disliked the idea, for the time being he had to listen to her like a good and obedient little pet until they got back to the home ship.

''Fine, bring the Ooman if you want'' he simply said, abandoning the fight. ''But he is not to exit the labs, bother any of my hunters or try anything funny or I swear I will have his head ! Is that clear ?''

''It is, as long as the asshole stay in his stasis pod until we get to our destination and that not one of you disturb me or my guest. Now, can we get out of here ? I can barely stand.''

The arbitrator nodded, sending a message through the comlink to Basj'shank and Kuji'janah to abandon their current look-out points to rejoin with them. The two of them had been posted to keep watch outside to make sure nobody would stumble on their unusual gathering. Meanwhile Ara'ni-sila walked to Tox, once again laying on his back on the verge of losing consciousness, tears of pain rolling on his dirty cheeks. The female extended one of her hands to him, hoping this gesture wasn't rude or meant something bad to his people.

The human seemed reluctant at first, his half-closed, watery eyes examining her and her hand suspiciously. Inside his black eyes she could see the suspicions rattling around his head. It seemed he was calculating the risks, evaluating her and the other of her kin, deciding whether or not a threat was abound. Seeing no other options, and probably judging it was the only way to have a chance at staying alive, he feebly grabbed her enormous hand, using what was left of his strength to boost himself to his feet, grunting through his teeth as his broken ribs moved. Ara'ni-sila flinched slightly under the added weight, her own wounds screaming in pain, but she maintained Tox upright, offering him her arm so he could lean on it. Even if he wore thick leather gloves she could feel his cold skin, which didn't mean anything good.

She was much taller than him, his head only reaching her abdomen. For her trip on the surface of the planet she had decided to wear a light, all purpose brown tabard held close to her body by two heavy belts to which were attached her medicomp, datapad, samples bag and sampling kit. Had she known she was going to defend herself she'd wore something more protective and less revealing; she did not partake in any hunt but her military background had made the female an armor aficionado, the craft required to make them fascinating her. Aside from her gauntlets she brought no weapons, though her size alone was often enough to scare off would be attackers – when they were of her species that is. Unlike many of her kind the female preferred to leave her taloned feet bare, finding sandals cumbersome and uncomfortable.

As the two vigils arrived, covered in their cloaking field, the arbitrator took them away to explain the situation, provoking immediate cries of complaints. The old arbitrator slapped his whiny students, ordering them to silence. He gave new instructions while pointing to Juka'fero, hissing his commands aggressively so the two younglings would follow them without questions. That done the giant male known as Basj'shank, small next to Ara'ni-sila, grabbed his downed teammate and swung him on his shoulder, draping him in invisibility when the field adapted. He murmured another complaint before walking out of the room, his loud footsteps heavy with frustration. All the hunters left, leaving behind the female and her burden of a human to painfully walk down the stairs and fend for themselves if something happened. Every step was excruciating and both almost fell down the stairs when a step broke under their combined weight. Before leaving Ara'ni-sila initiated her cloak, the familiar electrical tingling covering her and the human, to which the sensation was a novelty.

The few miles separating them from the scientific vessel proved to be painful and exhausting, both of them drained, tired and hurt. Tox often stumbled on rocks or rubbles, making him fall flat on his face. Had the female not been there he would have simply stayed on the ground for scavengers to loot his corpse. Ara'ni-sila dragged him for a good portion of the last mile, sweat drenching her clothes and making her usual strong grip slippery. It is with a sigh of relief she spotted the enormous shimmer of the cloaked ship, the open doors apparently hanging in mid air. The small human clenching her arm froze, his ragged breath jammed in his throat at the sight, thinking he'd lost his mind. She gently pushed him forward, well as gently as her size could, and led him inside.

The dark interior brought relief to Tox unprotected eyes. The heavy doors closed silently behind them, shielding the two being of the wind and blinding light, allowing the methane and nitrogen fog to return. The human blinked a few times, trying to make out the details of the new environment he stood in, his vision still clouded by the outside light. But as soon as the vessel atmosphere reached his lungs he began coughing, spitting blood and gasping on the floor as his lips began turning blue from the lack of oxygen. With a last gurgle he collapsed, eyes rolled in the back of his head, completely ceasing to breathe and twitching uncontrollably. Panic took over the female, adrenaline surging through her vein as she quickly grabbed the Ooman and hurriedly brought him to her labs, sealing the door and tapping codes on a console to regulate the air to Earth standard. With a loud whoosh the excess methane and nitrogen were purged by the ventilation system, powerful fan vacuuming the unnecessary gasses. Wasting no time she rapidly limped her way to the medlab, the human in her arms.

Already present were the five males, still wearing their masks, the three conscious younglings observing their instructor as he healed the wounds of Juka'fero while describing the proper way and tools to use. They frowned and growled when Ara'ni-sila entered, all existing attractions toward the female momentarily forgotten for what she had supposedly done to their comrade. She ignored them and settled the human on a padded examination table, pressing her hands on his chest and lowering her head to feel and hear his heartbeat. The armor and layers of clothes he wore dampened her sensitive touch, preventing her to feel the pulsations but beneath the five Yautjas hearts she could make out the faint, timid rhythm of the Ooman's. Tox was breathing again, though barely.

Having no other choice she tore the mail shirt off him, sending metal rings flying everywhere. With her sharp claws she carefully ripped the layers of fabric, revealing his pale and bruised chest. Large areas of his skin had turned a dark purple, indicating internal bleeding probably caused by one of his ribs piercing a lung or a damaged spleen. From her waist she unstrapped her medicomp, setting it beside the Ooman before opening it to reveal a set of tools, syringes, knives and ampoules. From it she grabbed a pair of goggles sharing the same vision enhancement capabilities as the hunters masks, cycling through its modes until she found one that allowed her to clearly see the internal injuries the human had suffered. She didn't know what effects the compounds would have on his physiology, but she had to try if she wanted him to survive.

The female grabbed a long sterile syringe attached to a small pump, her mind working as fast as it could to determine the best entry point that wouldn't cause more harm to the Ooman. With a deep breath she inserted it into his abdomen, the pump springing to life to drain the excess fluid that soaked the internal tissues, allowing her to see where it came from. The right lung had been badly ruptured, literally drowning the human in his own blood while at the same time bleeding him to death. The injuries too important for her to take care on her own, she painfully limped to a hovering machine with a dexterous arm built onto it, clamping it to the table. With shaky fingers she taped as series of codes on its holographic console, selecting the types of injuries to treat from a list, specifying protocols to be taken. The arm began moving, its four fingers lowering to the chest of the Ooman. An inquiry message appeared on the console, prompting if the procedure could begin. Before she accepted, Ara'ni-sila picked a large ampoule containing a bright, luminescent and orange liquid that would act both as an anesthetic and a tissue booster, breaking the cap off before emptying the content into the throat of Tox who coughed feebly as he swallowed. She also gave him a stimulant that would greatly accelerate the production of blood cells to replace the massive quantities he'd lost. Satisfied and nervous, the female touched the console and the machine got to work.

From the tip of its metallic fingers erupted delicate lasers that cut through the flesh with ease, cauterizing the cut instantly and revealing the red flesh underneath. A long, snake like appendage slithered from the middle of the automated arm, slipping between the layers of skin as it entered the human body. Inside it made his way to the traumatized lung, its cylindrical body showing under the skin like a giant worm. There it extended small metal clasps that shut the wound up, fusing the flesh permanently with synthesized organic tissues and sowing it with microfilament so the wound wouldn't open again. It also applied a healing gel on the wound that would greatly accelerate the healing process, but caused tremendous pain as it acted, the compound over stimulating the nerves with which it made contact. It injected the same liquid to the many broken ribs, setting them in place with a loud and sickening crack before doing so, sealing the breaks with metallic rings to hold them in place. Its programming done, the appendage slithered out to its receptacle.

During the time it took for the machine to operate, Ara'ni-sila had disinfected, sutured and bandaged her wounds, injecting herself with a dose of scarring cocktail to finish. The smell of the males was overpowering but she ignored it, concentrating her thoughts on her guest that laid unconscious before her. She didn't really understand why she'd wanted him to be her side so much, her usual self centered attitude pushed aside, but now that he was onboard with her she'd be pissed if anyone tried to pry him away. Maybe her curiosity for foreign beings had finally gotten the better of her, or her latent motherly side had woken up when he saved her from Juka'fero disgusting touch, but she sensed that he would prove himself useful, in one way or another.

The displeased growls coming from behind her were starting to wake her anger, throbbing relentlessly in her dreadlocked head. She took a deep, controlled breath to calm her nerves has she tried to focus her minds on something interesting, the only thing being Tox unconscious body. For a human was rather tall, standing at roughly six foot four. Under the remains of his chainmail and clothes, a light, almost white skin shone softly in the cold lights of the medlab. Years of traveling under the crushing weight of both a full backpack and a full set of armor had hardened his body, defining his muscles and strengthening him greatly but his constant use of heavy clothes didn't allow any light to shine through, paling his skin to an ivory white. Large, brutal scars adorned his chest, ranging from stab wounds to gunshots to second degree burns and frost bites, his epidermis almost a statement to the harsh conditions of the ruins.

She had been surprised to notice that his hair was braided much like her own into thick dreadlocks, with leather laces coursing through them to hold their shape. Curious she grabbed one of them, the texture tickling her fingers. They'd been made with a mix of wax and own-made glue, keeping the air from splitting but procuring a dry, ropy feel. The process for the Yautja was far more advanced and painful, the process taking a long time. It was achieved by automated weavers, tube-like clasps attached at the base of the air, which slowly rotated and sealed the hair tightly under a rubbery substance that gave them their distinctive black color. The clasps were applied when an infant was ready to begin his training and removed many months later, replaced by permanent silver or gold rings.

The Oomans were both similar and completely different from her species, sharing their upright stature, five fingers, two eyes and overall muscle composition, but were at a much earlier stage of evolution than them. Apparently they had evolved from some kind of hairy animal they called ''Ape'', after the Yautja had hunted to extinction the large reptiles that once inhabited the planet, allowing mammals to grow in number before an ice age took hold. Humanity had survived all the major catastrophes their world had suffered, emerging better and stronger from it, making them an ever changing species that made them one of the most dangerous and cunning prey her people hunted. Through the years they had killed many of her kind, proving they were a force to be reckoned with, but the unfortunate way they'd blasted themselves a hundred years ago proved their inferiority as a society.

The Yautja had evolved for millions of years to adapt to their hunter way of life, developing acute senses able to perceive preys at large distances, muscles to counter the superior gravity on their home planet, growing to high heights so they could keep their head above water or high reeds in the marshes of their natural environment and devising advanced technology to further their edge during the hunt. Their matriarchal society was based on strength, honor and intelligence rather than individualistic gain and power. Individuals with skills were rewarded higher rank and position, while useless ones faced extermination, allowing a near perfect gene pool to be passed to the infants, thus creating stronger and stronger offspring's by each passing generation. The fact that each female was given the choice of whom to mate with also insured only the stronger males would breed.

Careful not to disturb the Ooman, Ara'ni-sila removed the large bag he carried on his back to check its content. Inside she found a wide assortment of dusty clothes, strange cylindrical containers holding what appeared to be food , a spare mail shirt, tightly folded maps of different regions of his world, a very aromatic metal case, tinted goggles and a rolled leather sheet closed with long laces. Intrigued she set the bag down on an empty spot on the table where she unrolled the bundle, revealing a set of oddly shaped, glistening knives. Trying to take one out, she cut her thumb on its edge, yelping in surprise and attracting the attention of the group of males behind her. She growled at them so they'd leave her alone before examining the blade more carefully; it was primitive in design but highly effective, the edge perfectly aligned so it would cut with surgical precision and kept in pristine condition so corrosion wouldn't eat at it.

Tox mumbled in his sleep and jittered slightly, his forehead covered with cold sweat. Instinctively Ara'ni-sila pressed her palm against it, hissing softly to calm him down, hoping the warmth of her hand would comfort him somewhat in his troubled sleep. Behind her the males were leaving, Juka'fero's injuries now taken care of and the arbitrator not wanting to break his deal with the female. They all silently walked out of the room, the hermetic door sealing on the other side as the atmosphere was changed back to let them pass, then returned when they were gone. Aside from the low hum of the many machines in the labs, total silence reigned once again, providing a soothing and calm workplace for the female.

Relieved to finally be alone again, Ara'ni-sila removed her belts, gauntlets and drenched tabard, momentarily leaving the Ooman alone so he could rest and heal in peace, but before she attached a vital sign emitter onto his neck so she would be alerted in the event of a critical medical alert. She needed to wash herself from the nauseating smell of male musk that clung to her skin and think about the situation, a bath would help her do that. Completely naked she entered her living quarters, her muscled and perfectly toned body reflecting dimly on the clean surfaces of the walls as she made her way to her bath room. Octagonal and decorated with heavy drapes that hung from the ceiling all around a large square repression on the floor, it was a dark room lit only by blue holographic displays attached to the walls that slowly projected dreamy and abstract forms. Pressing a symbol beside de repression, warm water began gushing down into the cavity, slowly filling it as the female lowered herself, purring and clicking her mandibles in pleasure.

Settling herself on a bench near the bottom of the reservoir the female gently scrubbed the dirt and sweat of her skin, savoring the enveloping heat and finally feeling clean. Setting her head against a corner she let her mind wander, the soothing holographic patterns putting it at ease. Once again her thoughts were drawn to the Ooman who stupidly put his life on the line to protect her. Why had he done this ? As far as she could tell he'd never encountered her kind before and didn't even know who she was, so why ? Did he wanted to die an honorable death like one of her people, sick of the world his people had brought upon themselves ? Was he insane from the unrelenting heat of his devastated planet ? Did he sought some kind of favors from her ? So many questions for so little answers banged around in her head.

''Why ?'' she asked the room. ''You could've walked away and saved yourself from those injuries. What are your motivations, little Ooman ? Is your life so sad you desired the Dark Hunter to claim your soul ?'' She didn't expect any answers from the walls but talking to herself helped her think.

_He's skilled with a knife, _she thought, _and know how to sharpen them. Maybe he's a warrior of some kind, with all that armor he certainly look like it, and his duty is to help anyone in need… no that's stupid. Oomans are individualistic by nature. He must be an assassin of sort, with all those knives he carries he's bond to need them somehow. Wonder how he can fight with all that stuff on him though ? Probably trained with it most of his life, just like us. _Then her thoughts took a sharp, sinister turn. _I should've killed that bastard when I had the chance ! Cut his belly up and spill his guts so he could look at them before he died ! I was stupid to think this sorry excuse of an arbitrator would condemn one of his students. I'm of the Sila clan ! My voice should be all he need !_ She frowned and flailed her mandibles._ Males, a bunch of hormone ridden freaks unable to control themselves ! It's a shame we still need them !_

She growled in annoyance, swallowing her anger so she wouldn't punch a side of her bath. The Sila clan had stayed male free as far as any Grand Mothers could remember, their history stretching back to the very beginning of Yautjan society. Their limited contact with the males sub-clans quickly turned to all out hate, at one point triggering a mass genocide that cost the lives of countless hunters on a small moon where the Silas were predominant. This event gave them the nickname ''Shurra'' meaning Witch or Sorceress. It was rumored that once the current Queen would die, a Sila would take her place. The elders council, a covenant of the oldest, most powerful and talented males in the systems was very nervous of this, dreading that it would usher new laws directly aimed at impeding their influences over Yautjan affairs.

It was this exact council that the arbitrator was about to contact for guidance, and Ara'ni-sila knew it wouldn't bode well for the Ooman. They were xenophobic, especially towards humans, and to learn a hunter had once again fell before one of them would not rejoice them. Given the short time before this meeting and her confinement, the female couldn't hope to get in touch with higher members of her clans to pull some strings in her favor; she was, to some extent, at the mercy of the council for the time being.

And she hated it.

***

Surrounded by his trophies, mask still covering his face, Yuta'nektil stared at the holo-image of his wall-mounted projector. On it was displayed an old, greatly scarred Yautja, his body adorning tattoos, piercings and skulls.

''Elder, you honor me by accepting to converse with me on such a short notice'' started the arbitrator, bowing his head in respect. ''A situation arose on the assignment I have undertook.''

The Elder shook his head. ''Let me guess, the Sila Sister has brought you troubles ?''

''More than that I'm afraid. She accuses my best student of intended rape ! I requested this meeting so I could advised on my next course of actions.''

The Elder frowned and hissed, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. ''Those Shurras ! We should've exterminated every one of them after the massacre they pulled on Teghinis. This Queen of ours is too soft on them !''

''Thread carefully Elder, you're very close to maintaining libelous comments. Somebody might be listening…''

''Please tell me you have actual witnesses that her allegations are untrue'' sighed the old Yautja, not commenting on the recommendations of the arbitrator.

''Not that we can use.''

The Elder raised an eyebrow. ''Explain yourself.''

Ashamed to the highest point, his head low, Yuta'nektil responded: ''An Ooman supposedly walked in on my student when he was about to abuse the female. Apparently after that he…'' the rest of his sentence died in his throat. Shaking himself up he continued. ''The Ooman fought him.''

''So your student killed our only ''witness'' ?'' laughed the Elder. ''Oomans can be such nuisances, it amazes me they didn't all just died when the bombs..''

''No, Elder'' this cut the laughing short. ''According to the Sister, he defeated my student. Juka'fero would've died if I hadn't treated him..''

''YOU SAVED HIS LIFE !? Have you lost your mind arbitrator !?'' the elder howled in anger. ''Not only did you dishonor him, but his whole clan will have to bear the weight of this shame !''

''We still don't know if any of this is true ! The female could be laughing at us for all we know !'' replied Yuta'nektil in his defense. ''Before she left the ship, she made threats to all of my group, clearly stating that any of us caught following her would be greatly punished. My orders were to make sure she didn't come to any harm, so I sent Juka'fero anyway. He borrowed a long range spear launcher from another of my students and set off on her trail, promising to keep away.''

''This student, Juka'fero, was he wearing his mask when this thing occurred ?'' the arbitrator approved. ''Then cant we just review the memory core and view ourselves what happened ?''

''Regrettably no. As a Youngblood his gear is still very basic, most of the circuitry is missing and an image recorder as yet to be installed. The female wasn't wearing her own, so we basically stand at an impasse.''

''So it seems'' simply added the Elder, rubbing his chin. ''As the Shurra suffered any kind of injuries at all ?''

''Piercing wounds to her wrists and ankles, apparently they came from the spear launcher Juka'fero borrowed. Many of the said spears were found on the site where we found them.''

''You do realize this look very bad for your student, right ? To me, everything seems to point him as the culprit in this situation. Without a viable witness, or any evidences that he is not guilty of those charges, I'm afraid you'll have no other choices but to put a swift end to his life and welcome the shame that will befell on you.'' The old Yautja hated to admit defeat at the hand of a Sila, but the situation wasn't open to any alternative. His hands were tied by the strong grip of their laws and… ''Unless.''

''Yes, Elder ?'' hopefully asked Yuta'nektil.

A grin spread across the fanged face of the Elder as an idea germinated at the back of his mind. ''If her story is true, that Juka'fero was indeed brought down by this Ooman, then to prove her story all we have to do is organize a duel !''

''If the Ooman fail then her allegations are false and Juka'fero and I will regain our honor !'' The arbitrator let out a relieved hiss, his mandibles tapping eagerly against one another. ''As soon as he is able to stand I will prepare the arrangements and…''

''No, Arbitrator'' interrupted the Elder, ''this situation may have turned to our advantage but the matter is still too sensitive. I will have to report this to my other Brothers of the Council and the Queen spire. I'm afraid you'll have to come back to us to have this fight, as it will probably be made public.''

''Quiet frankly Elder, I don't care if I have to endure the three rotations trip, as long as I have a shot to keep my honor and prevent my clan to be shamed. I will make sure Juka'fero is ready to tear that Ooman to pieces when we arrive !''

''I will communicate this decision to the required Elders. Make sure the Sila Sister knows what is going to happen and for the love of the gods do not let her become another thorn in our side will you ?'' With that the holo-image disappeared, leaving a relieved Yuta'nektil to plan his new training schedule.

***

-Chapter 2.5-

He laid on the floor, his hands tightly roped to his ankles, his broken nose bleeding heavily on his lips and chin. All he could do was grit his teeth while he pulled helplessly on his restraints, the thick rope digging its way deeper into his skin. Through the haze and tears he could see his sister getting kicked and punched, eager hands ripping her clothes to reveal the soft and white skin underneath. With a silent scream she was brought down on all four by the group of bandits that had attacked them while they rested, all of them laughing maniacally like a pack of rabid hyenas while they drove large nails into her hands to pin her there. At the scavenger horror some of them began undoing the knots and belts from their trousers, the only thing he could do was read the utter and complete despair in his sister's eyes.

With a scream Tox awoke, his muscles aching and his fists curled into fists, knuckles whitening under the pressure. The sweat covering his skin was unpleasantly cold, the surroundings alien and unknown, the air heavy with humidity. As he struggled to shrug of the piercing memory from so long ago, he wiped away the tears from his black eyes, cursing silently to himself for letting his brain bring back this part of his life. He hated dreaming; if something was worth hating to the scavenger it was this. Every time he would close his eyes he'd see hers, pleading him silently for a rescue that would never come. The soft padding under him and the searing pain in his guts helped clear away his head and redirect his attention to the present, his sister's face slowly engulfed back into a past he wanted to forget.

The scavenger had no idea how he'd got into this room, but the presence of large quantities of blood on the bed he rested on and the floor told him that the large creature he'd rescued had saved him as some sort of payback. Moving slowly he sat, mails of his shirt rolling down his bare chest, prompting Tox to lay one of his gloved hands where his ribs had been broken. Amidst the regular and familiar bumps he could feel protuberances that weren't there before, a burning and irritating sting throbbing right where they were. Surprise stopped him completely the moment he realized a new, silvery scar had somehow appeared right under his thoracic cage, the skin around it purple, swollen and very sensitive. Even though it looked bad the flesh didn't seem infected, the small line clean and devoid of any scab or bad smell. The looter had suffered a wide array of injuries, but none of them had healed this quickly before, the harsh conditions of the environment extending considerably the time it took for a wound to close itself, attracting diseases and parasites like a magnet. He rubbed his chin, determining by the height of his beard that he'd been passed out for more or less two days.

_So in two days I've almost completely recovered from what I believe was a punctured lung and almost four broken ribs ?_ thought Tox, running a leather-covered finger over the scar. _I'm no healer but I'm pretty sure this is impossible ! Those creatures must have some pretty efficient medicine !_ _If I could grab_ _some of it before getting out of here I wouldn't need to worry over every scratch I get in the ruins…or stab wounds…or gunshots._

Tox carefully cracked his neck, so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't notice the walnut-sized, round sensor detaching itself from his skin to silently fall on the ground.

Groggily he swung his legs over the bed, eyes scanning the strange room he was in for a door or a vent, something that would allow him to quickly escape if troubles arose. Surprised, the scavenger noticed that all of his weapons had remained on him, undisturbed from their sheaths as if they had been useless sticks, the sword he had strapped to the back portion of his belt having dug its way into his lower-back. Tox was even more surprised to find his pack containing all of his possessions, including his bundle of knives, carelessly left right next to the padded bed. Ceasing this opportunity he carefully lowered himself to the floor, every movements making him grunt under the pain. He fought through it, quickly fumbling in the bag for an undamaged shirt and his spare chainmail, the reassuring weight of the armor in his hands bringing him some sense of security and familiarity.

It took him more than an hour to undress himself and put his replacement clothes and armor on, the now complete chainmail pressing down on his newly healed wounds, the scavenger gritting his teeth under the harsh and vivid pain. Out of options to keep his body from yelling at him, he grabbed the small metal case from his bag, firing up the halfway smoked joint that quickly clouded each of his senses under a thick veil of calm and relaxation. The pain was still there but the weed muted it greatly, pushing it back behind layers of nonsensical thoughts and deep introspection, allowing Tox to walk around the room with relative ease. His now red, curious eyes analyzed every piece of equipment, his hands unsure if they should touch any of it. He kept clear of the door, worried that if he tried to leave he'd be brought down like an escaped animal.

Tox had no idea what laid beyond this opening, wondering if hundreds of those creatures awaited behind it, eager to tear him to shreds for what he had done to their comrade. As far as he knew he'd killed him, but again maybe they had given him the same medical treatment as himself.

Tox felt strange, different, as if his skin was stretched over a body too big for it. Now that the pain was receding the scavenger noticed a strange tingling in his bones, almost like insects crawling under his muscles. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but now that he knew it was there it seemed to grow in vigor and strength, starting from the tip of his toes to the back of his skull. Putting this on the fact that he was completely high Tox lazily paced around the room, rubbing his skin in an attempt to brush off the odd sensation as he looked for some kind of ventilation system in which he could maybe crawl through, to no avail. As far as he could see, he was trapped, the only way out being the knob less door.

He carefully approached it, jumping backward with his sword in his hand when the large slab opened before him, granting him access to a poorly lit corridor while the pressure difference blew a gasp of hot air onto his face. Not taking any chances the scavenger pulled out his pistol from its hidden holster in one of his jackets pocket, quickly checking the magazine before moving further. In his condition he decided to leave his bag behind until he was certain that the way ahead was clear, the backpack still too heavy for his body to handle correctly while staying hidden in the shadows.

The leather of the soles of his boots squeaked softly against the perfectly plane surface of the floor, the sound echoing all around Tox as he carefully walked into the dark passage. Despite his years skulking around for his survival with an unnerving calm, the scavenger heart now had chosen to bounce around in his chest with the zeal of a madman on steroids. Whether it was due to stress or the unnerving tingling that continually grew within his bones, Tox didn't really care, trying to maintain his breathing to a slow, steady pace to make as less noise as possible. Most of the corridor light came from strange three-dimensional displays that continually changed shape, the cuneiform images gaining and losing bars. Because of this shadow patches were numerous, allowing him to conceal himself almost entirely but also preventing his eyes to spot any threats that may be doing the same thing.

As he came close to an open door the scavenger put his back to the wall, locking his breathe so he could hear anything that might have been going on within the room, his pistol trained to his side with the safety off. As no signs of life came to his ears, he cautiously peaked, finding it strange that once again nothing seemed to inhabit the place. _It doesn't make any senses, _he thought, _I saw a whole bunch of those things while in the ruins, but now that I'm in their home not one show up ? I guess it's a good thing, at least I don't have to worry about fighting another one of them. _

He dashed pass the door to continue down the corridor, his joints now stiff under the tension of a danger that apparently wouldn't come. But it did. He saw the blow come from the corner of his eye, ducking just in time to feel an enormous fist graze the top of his head. He turned around to face whatever decided to finally attack him only to stare at an empty spot, his mind racing to find an intelligent answer to what had just happened. He remembered the creatures strange ability to disappear from sight, a light of comprehension popping on in his mind.

''I know you're there !'' he shouted in the silence, not expecting an answer, in English or otherwise. Tox stood perfectly still, his dark eyes searching the shadows for a shimmer like the heat caused on the hottest days in the ruins. ''Why save me if you intended to finish me off here ?''

For sole response he dodged another fist, this time aimed at his abdomen. With his back at the wall the scavenger didn't need to worry about watching it, but trying to spot an almost invisible opponent revealed to be as hard as if he had to. He only saw the punches come at the last second, himself surprised that he hadn't been hit yet, with his guts starting to flare up again as the drug he'd smoked was now almost purged from his system. His shoulder was struck, sending him against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Out of options he fired three blind shots at the shadows, the muzzle flash blinding him slightly, colored blurs dancing before his eyes. He hadn't hit anything, but he hoped he'd at least scared the invisible stalker away, pain digging its insidious way into his chest with sharp teeth.

A dead silence filled the corridor, the looter holding his breath as to hear any suspect sound that might betray his adversary position, the sword in his hand as still as if it had been attached to a statue. Over his left a shadow seemed to move, prompting him to immediately raise the blade just in time to deflect another powerful blow that would have made contact with his recently broken, and healed, nose. Ceasing this opportunity he squeezed the trigger of his gun, only to realize the barrel was locked in a backward position, the gun jammed. Invisible hands grabbed him by the throat, easily raising Tox several feet from the ground as he chocked, trying to swing his sword before it was pried from his grip and tossed to the ground.

Unable to see the one that was going to kill him bothered the scavenger, always convincing himself that when the time came he would stare death in the face and the one that brought her. As black spots started to fog his vision, the iron grip was surprisingly relieved, Tox falling down on the floor gasping and coughing, a hand on his sore throat. Warm fingers forced him to let go before something cold and heavy was locked around his neck, sharp pins cleanly piercing each sides of his esophagus, blood trickling from the wounds, the scavenger yelping under the intrusion in his skin.

As he stood, kneeled and defeated, Tox watched as his attacker materialized from thin air, a cold mask looking down to him, long braided air framing it like the snakes on a Medusa. Despite the human shape of its body it clearly wasn't; its yellow skin, impressive height, clawed fingers and taloned feet was a dead giveaway of its inhumanity. Though massive, it moved with a feline grace, taking noiseless steps around Tox as if it was judging or gauging him, its expressionless face always locked on his person. The scavenger knew it was the same being he'd saved two days ago, but why it now wanted to do battle with him was unclear, its motivations unknown to him, probably alien altogether and out of anything a human could comprehend.

It wore a light set of armor made of a dark material, with a knee length, teal colored loin cloth covering what Tox thought was its privates. A mesh was wrapped all over its muscular figure, with different tools and armor plates attached to it. Its chest practically laid bare, heavy looking necklaces sporting feathers and small bones hiding a good portion of it but leaving little to the imagination. The scavenger noticed its breasts lacked nipples, wondering what a young of this species could eat at its earlier stage in its life, quickly looking elsewhere so as to not anger the creature if it saw him staring.

As quickly as it attacked him, it now held out a hand to Tox, inviting him to help him up.

The scavenger looked at the creature suspiciously, pulling on the device around his neck to relieve the stinging pain in his throat before talking. ''You really should make your mind ! Do you want to kill me or help me ?'' To his surprise, and horror, what should've been English words exiting his lips sounded like a bunch of low, menacing growls accompanied by hisses and clicks, the same thing that the creatures had used while discussing among themselves back in the decrepit building. He recoiled away from the creature, panic overtaking him. ''WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME !?'' he shouted in the strange language, his ear starting ringing for some unknown reason.

The creature cocked its head to the side, apparently curious of him. It took a step toward the looter, who slid a little farther away, his hunting knife now firmly held in his hand, the blade pointed toward the alien.

''Not…afraid…should…be…'' the creature spoke in broken English, the voice deep into his ears. ''Translate…device…'' It pointed to the collar it had forcibly put on Tox. ''Calibrating…''

''What are you talking about ? What's ''calibrating'' ?'' he inquired, suspicious, the collar once again making him sound inhuman.

''Time…need…'' the creature croaked, her response delayed as if it tried to understand the meaning of his words before talking. It extended its enormous hand once again, the black claws shining in the dim light.

''You are high off your ass if you think I'm going to trust you after what you did to me !'' he yelled. ''I helped you and you think the thing to do is to strangle me, punch me and rob me of my language by shoving spikes in my throat ? Fuck off !'' He jumped to his feet with a grace he didn't know he possessed, surprised at the speed and the efficiency he managed to pull off. Judging by the body language of the creature he knew she hadn't understood everything he said, but at this point he didn't care. ''You better show me a way out of here or I swear you'll suffer the same fate as the asshole I brought down !'' The itching in his bones was really starting to annoy him and the fire burning in is guts only made things worse, rapidly grinding his calm and patience away.

For sole response the creature tapped a few key on its wrist computer. What Tox had thought to be a wall to his left slowly rose with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the dark, empty void of space, large transparent panels keeping him to be sucked onto its vast emptiness. Shocked, afraid and amazed at the same time, he could only stare as the ship soared near a series of moons orbiting a huge, purple planet covered in violet clouds.

''Leave…impossible…Stuck…'' the creature announced as it slowly approached the scavenger, staying out of reach of the blade. ''Left…planet…your…Back…not…''

Despite the eclectic, almost random way the creature had talked, Tox understood. They had left his world, and wouldn't go back. He was stuck, unable to leave until these things decided otherwise. He lowered his knife, a great depression rushing through him.

''Well…fuck me'' he sighed in the strange language.


	3. Chapter 3 part1

-Chapter 3-

The punch came out of nowhere, crushing his face with such force it knocked him to the ground, his head spinning violently and his eyes going out of focus. Bruised, beaten and tired to a point where staying conscious was a struggle in itself, the young human shook his head trying to stop the world from spinning has he stood up again. The sweat on his skin did nothing to cool him off; the heavy, humid air clinging to him with relentless annoyance as he tried to defend himself. Held strongly into his hand was his sword, the dents and scratches on the blade bearing witness to the violence and brutality of the many duels it had been through in the last few days. It was kicked away from him a few moments later, sliding in a patch of shadows.

As he laid there, gasping for air with his hand on his knees, Ara'ni-sila uncloaked herself, her tall, yellow figure a sharp contrast against the dark smooth surface of the wall behind her. Had she not wore a loincloth and her usual bracers she'd been completely naked, the sharp muscles under her skin accentuated by the surrounding shadows. It didn't take an expert in body language to notice the annoyance in her stance as she walked toward Tox, her waist length braided locks bouncing gently on her back as the small metal clasps attached to them shone softly in the dim light.

In an effort to catch his breath, Tox pulled on the metal collar around his neck, trying to relieve some of the pressure off his throat. The many spikes that had been forcibly introduced near his vocal chords didn't contribute to his comfort, the almost healed wounds stinging as sweat rolled into them. He'd tried several times to remove the device, only to be painfully brought back to order by an automatic electrical discharge whenever he tried to pry it open. For him, who had valued his freedom all his life, to be now shackled like some kind of pet on an alien ship with little knowledge of why he was there in the first place, brought anger and hate into his heart.

Ever since he'd awoke in that lab, Tox had been repeatedly beaten to a pulp every single day. The first few times he frankly thought he was going to die, only to be amazed as the injuries that would've killed him back on his forsaken planet healed ten times faster than normal. Scratches disappeared in a matter of hours, if not minutes, and bones mended so fast you could practically hear them snap back into place. Whatever had happened when he was unconscious changed him, made him better, faster and stronger every passing day. But those changes had a price; his bones ached to a point where he just wanted to stab a knife through his flesh to scratch them and his skin felt three sizes too small. Tox was in a pool of maddening discomfort that was literally driving him insane. Insomnia had settled in days ago, keeping his memories in check but draining him of the little vigor he had. And this lack of energy was apparently pissing his captor off.

''Concentrate ! Block my fist with your forearms, not your face !'' spit Ara'ni-sila has she got close to Tox, her nimble feet not making a noise on the floor. ''Unless you want to die the second you step out of this ship you will need to take this training a lot more seriously !''

Tox looked up at her, his nose bleeding slightly and a bruise darkening on his left cheek. ''I preferred it when I couldn't understand you, 'cause now I know you're a real bitch !'' he suddenly exploded, his teeth bared like a wild animal. ''You've been beating me up like this for over a week now and I still have no clue why ! Is this some kind of test or are you just enjoying yourself knowing that I'm at your mercy !'' The collar translated every single words, clicks and hisses replacing his beloved language.

The tall female stood there, her arms crossed over her chest and her head tilted to the side like it usually did when he spoke or did something typically human, something he'd learned to associate with curiosity or patience. The scavenger took long deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.

''Look, I appreciate the fact that you saved my life, for that I say thank you. But this isn't my place or my life. Whatever you have planned I don't want to be a part of it. So go tell your friends that I'm sorry I killed your pal and let me go…please.''

Ara'ni-sila felt sorry for him, almost wishing he hadn't walked in on Juka'fero before he could finish what he'd started, but every fibers of her being were glad he did. Despite the tiredness she could read on his face and the obvious discomfort he was in, she wouldn't let him go, both for his own safety and because she had no choice but to keep him at her side. She'd tried to beat his resolve out of him, break him to a point where he would just follow her instructions, but despite the broken bones, the cleaved flesh or the lack of sleep he would just stand there and take it all, the powerful healing compound in his veins both keeping him from dying and restoring his shattered self every time. With each passing day he defended himself less and less, letting her punch, cut and crush him more and more. She hadn't saved him for this, but the arbitrator and his precious little council forced her hand.

''Despite what you might think human I am not the enemy here. There are things far worse than me where we are going. If you are not fit to survive when we leave the ship you won't last a single revolution…day'' she corrected herself, the Ooman still trying to assimilate most of the terms her people used to tell the time. ''Letting yourself get punched won't help you, it'll just make it easier for your adversary to kill you.'' She thought about Juka'fero, unable to understand how a single, malnourished and dehydrated human could have brought him down. No doubt he was completely healed now, and probably very upset at how weak he'd been. No way the favored student of the arbitrator was going to let that happen again.

Underneath the itchy container that was his skull, Tox brain made a few connections, rapidly catching up to what had been really going on for the past week. The creature had used the word adversary, not prey has she usually did, meaning he was supposed to fight someone, not just hunt random animals like she'd said. He looked at the Yautja straight in the eyes, something he'd never done before. At that moment all became clear.

''You're training me to fight someone aren't you ?'' The way the female slightly winced when he talked confirmed it. ''All you've been doing is prepare me to finish off what I started back in that building, isn't it ?''

Ara'ni-sila could only stand there, her mind empty of words that she could say to try to explain herself. On the human face she could read pain, anger and through his black eyes she could see a deep and sad loneliness, probably exacerbated by the unfamiliar environment and the lack of friendly contact.

''Why did you lie ?'' Tox asked coldly, his fists clenched at his side, sweat dripping from one of his dreadlocks. ''Am I not entitled to some degree of respect for saving you ? Have I not proven myself to you enough ?'' His voice became hard, almost a hiss. ''You robbed me of my freedom, took me away from my world, put a collar on me like I'm some kind of animal and beat me up day and night while leaving me in total darkness as to what the hell is going on, while all I did to you was prevent your enormous body to be violated ! Had I known how this was going to turn out I would've left you rot in that tower and let you be his toy ! At least I'd still have my life !''

Tox was shaking, his nails digging deep gashes into his palms which began to bleed. In his ears the furious thumping of his heart was almost deafening, rage flowing through his veins like a wild fire ready to consume anything on its way. It was because of liars like that…thing that his beloved sister had been killed, it was because of liars that he'd been shot five times in the back and stabbed twice in the stomach. He'd travelled alone because nobody could be trusted, humans like aliens.

''Listen, I know how this look, but you'll have to calm down and listen me'' the female tried, unsure of what the small human was going to do, knowing that despite his unimpressive physique he was able to bring down one of her own. ''I am not the enemy here, but beyond the corridor locked doors there are hunters ready to tear you to pieces without a second thought.'' She waited to see his reaction. Seeing none she continued: ''But if you let me train you correctly, you might stand a chance against the bastard you almost killed. All you have to do is win a duel, one duel, and its over ! After that you'll be free to do whatever you want, go anywhere you please !'' Reassured to hear his heart slow down, she concluded: ''Besides, are you that sad to have left that barren wasteland you call a planet ?''

Tox didn't say anything back, having somewhat cooled down as he listened to the strange creature. He hated to admit it but she was right; anything that held him to his world was gone the day his sister died eight years ago. Since then he'd only been a shadow of what he once was, roaming a broken world aimlessly, pursuing something he'd never find. But was this better ? To be a captive among extraterrestrial beings seemed far worst than the freedom of his little planet. And he didn't get beat up everyday day back on earth.

Once again Ara'ni-sila could read the internal struggle in the black pools that were the Ooman eyes. For a specie most her people considered infantile and shortsighted, she found the specimen before her to be so much more than what she'd thought at first. They were though, strong willed, ready to defend the small amount of honor they still possessed with nails and teeth if they had to. Has a specie they had failed horribly, but as single individuals they possessed strengths far greater than most of the other beings inhabiting the universe.

''Why did you saved my life, when I was hurt ?'' asked Tox, his palms still bleeding. ''If I was to be such a burden to you, why not let me die ? It would've been quick. Painful yes, but quick. At least I'd be at peace now…'' He trailed off a little, his eyes going out of focus for a minute as if he was thinking of something. Shaking himself off he continued: ''Instead you brought me here, healed me and now you kick the living shit out of me every day under the pretense of wanting to save my life ? I feel like crap, haven't slept in two days, itches all over and my eyes hurt. So what, you saved me so I could be your torture buddy ?'' He paused to let his words sink in, then concluded: ''Go fuck yourself..''

As simply as that Tox turned his back on her, slightly limping his way toward the training room exit. The female didn't know how to respond; both her clan name and her honor stood in the balance here. If the Ooman failed her she'd be casted off, most certainly declared a Bad Blood and the Sila would be shunned from society for generations to come. The human had to help her, willingly or not.

''Wait !'' she said before pouncing toward the smaller being, her hands ready to immobilize him. Shock and surprise spread across her face when, instead of his warm flesh, her iron grip caught nothing but air, the Ooman already out of her reach after he quickly dodged with a powerful sidestep that launched him almost halfway across the room. Caught in her own momentum Ara'ni-sila tumbled to the floor, rapidly shifting her weight so she was facing her captive when she recovered with a roll, ending up crouching, a hand on the floor and ready to attack if it came to this.

''For six days now you've been punching, kicking and clawing at me,'' began Tox, massaging the leg he'd used to propel himself which itched madly, ''you better think of something new, 'cause you used that pounce way too many times.''

''_That bastard studied me !'' _thought the female, both mad and intrigued. _''He hadn't lost the will to live, he was learning my techniques. He let himself get hurt so he'd know how I would fight, how I would react.'' _A plan started germinating in the back of her mind. _''Alright, he's pissed at me for now, lets see if I can help him vent some of that energy.''_ She readied herself, adopting her usual fighting stance, arms stretched away from her body, knees bent to give more stability and her back hunched so has to intimidate her opponent.

The scavenger smirked, replicating her technique and her stance, the tingling in his bones forgotten for now as he concentrated on the battle at hand. The female before him was almost twice his size, towering over him like a giant ready to crush a bug. He doubted he could kill her, but it wasn't his intentions anyway. Respect was what he was aiming for.

From what he'd seen these creatures society was based on strength and skills; to demonstrate equivalent or superior abilities than your adversaries proved you were worthy of a place among them. That's what got him in this mess in the first place; by showing that he was stronger than the hunter, Tox had ashamed him, probably his whole group, and so if he was to regain his status he needed to set aside the doubts created by his defeat. And the only way to do that was to kill the instrument of his downfall, in other words Tox.

Tox attacked first, trying to unsettle the large female. His first target was her knees, which if injured would slow and distract his opponent. Dashing forward he gained as much speed as he could before launching himself into a slide feet first, barely dodging one of Ara'ni-sila enormous fists. Using this breach the scavenger kicked as hard as he could, but before they made contact something grabbed his entire head, stopping him. With brutal force he was thrown across the room, landing on his side before rolling a little more on the floor. In the blink of an eye the female was upon him, a foot raised to squash him. Getting out of the way just in time he propelled himself to his feet, trying to determine his next move.

Seeing the human hesitate, the large female threw herself at him, howling her battle cry. Moving like a wild animal she tried to ram him all claws out, missing him by an inch only to have to block him when he used the same tactic. He offered a small target and without the constricting weight of his armor moved a lot faster, but something was different about him. The way he carried his weight seemed off, inhuman. Her thoughts were cut off when he managed to grab a handful of her dreadlocks and used them to yank her head low enough for him to place a punch right in the middle of her face. She shoved him off with the back of her hand, sending the human flying a few feet away, out of breath as the blow had hit him in the stomach. Brushing off a small rivulet of blood from her fanged mouth she flared her mandibles, now pissed as ever.

The sound of the growl that came from the female reverberated around Tox, engulfing him in her rage. With two gigantic steps she had him at arms reach, flaying her claws so quickly all he could see of her hands were blurry forms. It took all of his skills but the scavenger managed to dodge a good deal of the slashes, but received the final uppercut right under his chin, lifting him off the floor and backward. His head crashed against the floor, blurring his visions for a few seconds and opening a deep gash in the back of his skull. Yet he felt almost nothing, the pain almost a timid whisper. He touched the back of his head, wetness covering it. Looking at his hand he didn't see blood, but a strange, luminescent red liquid, its eerie light reflected against the smooth surface of the floor. Looking at his arms where he'd been cut by the female he saw the same thing flowing from the wounds.

Ara'ni-sila pounced, only to receive a kick in the stomach that cut her breath short. Normally an Ooman punch or kick didn't affect a Yautja, but somehow the human was strong enough so that she felt pain from his. She'd noticed the bright luminescence coming from his injuries, no doubt he had too, and yet he ignored it to concentrate on the fight. At that precise moment, the female got what had felt strange to her earlier; less and less she felt like she was a fighting a human, now she'd swore one of her own was standing before her. He moved like them, fought like them and in his eyes she could tell he was thinking like them, always calculating, always alert despite the injuries. And like them he now stood still, waiting for her to make a wrong move, create an opening he could exploit. Given a weapon she was sure it would be low, to create the illusion that he was an easy target. What was happening to him ?

''Stop !'' she asked, abandoning her fighting stance. ''This fight doesn't need to go on, you've made your point.'' She touched her bleeding fang, still surprised that an Ooman managed to hurt her. ''Unless you wish to make it to the death, this duel will have no incidence in our future endeavors.'' Unsure, the Ooman slowly let his guard down, breathing heavily. Realizing the human probably didn't get what was going on she explained: ''Among my race, a duel is a mean for a lot of things. It may be provoked to resolve animosities between two members of a same clan, establish a leader for a group, settle conflicts with minimal lives lost, establish dominance among warriors or just the plain enjoyment of the act.'' She waited to see if he understood. ''The fact that we are at a draw means that, by law, I should treat you as an equal in skills, but not in rank as those must be acquired either through honorable kills or birthright.''

The scavenger spat a gob of luminescent blood, cracking his neck as his breathing returned to normal. ''If I'm you're equal, then you will tell me why in the hell my blood is FUCKING GLOWING !'' He tried to calm down, closing his eyes to collect himself. ''What did you do me when I was unconscious ? Did you experiment on me ? As your equal who just kicked your ass as much as you kicked mine I want to know !''

Many theories floated rapidly through Ara'ni-sila skull but only one made sense. ''The medicines I used to treat you must have some side effects on your physiology.'' She began pacing around the room silently as she thought, rubbing her stomach where she'd been hit. ''It must be the tissue booster you swallowed. It's the only compound that not synthetic.''

''Synthetic…you mean you didn't manufactured it ? Then where does it come from ?'' He knew he wasn't going to like the answer. For a stuff to be this powerful it had to come from somewhere nasty.

''Well, it comes from…us'' she trailed on.

The scavenger sighed: ''You're gonna have to give me more than that and you know it, so spit it out !''

The female took a deep breath so as not to punch him and responded: ''Its an extract we get from younglings when they start to develop into adults. Those of them who don't passes their initial tests and for which there is no hope are sent to facilities where they are harvested, sometimes for cycles at a time depending on their strength. Since their body never receives the dosage needed to develop, it keep producing the compound over and over, until it can't anymore. None of them survive the process. In medical applications, the resulting extract once ingested orally helps traumatized muscles to produce new fibers to replace damaged ones.''

''You harvest your kids ? What kind of sick society are you ?'' Tox was beginning to doubt he wanted to be around those creatures anymore.

''They're useless otherwise'' Ara'ni-sila coldly responded. ''Those who can't fend for themselves becomes a burden for a clan. One weak individuals can bring the downfall of ten others. Besides, some of them are used as servants to other clans.''

''Oh yeah, that's so much better ! Either get killed by having your brain harvested or serve others for the rest of your life. That's an easy choi…'' His sentence was cut short when a wet ripping sound was heard near his right knee. Looking down he saw with distress that a portion of his jeans was now soaked with blood. Hurriedly he sat on the floor and rolled the fabric, revealing that the skin of his calve had somehow ripped from top to bottom, the underlying flesh now visible. ''What the fuck ! what is happening to me !'' he yelled, unable to detach his eyes from the gore fest that was his leg.

''Stay Calm'' demanded the large female as she observed the injury. Gently she palpated the intact skin on each side of the gash; it fell slippery under her touch, as if it was floating on top of something else. The rip was clean and had stopped bleeding for now, and judging by the look on the Ooman face, he didn't feel any pain from it. Suddenly the rip extended, crawling up to his knee with a disgusting sound. ''It look like as if your muscles are too big for your skin. See how its bulging out of the rip, that mean there's pressure under there. How are you feeling right now ?''

''I'm scared shitless, but I think I'm good. My skin has been feeling numb since morning'' he touched the back of his skull, feeling the injury, ''and I knocked my head pretty hard on the floor during our fight but it barely hurt… Even now I don't feel it. My leg is the same, except the exposed flesh doesn't feel weird at all.'' He paused, blowing on the red mess to test its sensitivity. ''I know its going to sound weird, but it is a little relieving.''

The Yautja raised an eyebrow: ''What do you mean by ''relieving'' exactly ?'' _Maybe the shock just made him insane _she thought.

''Ever since I woke up in the labs I've felt as if my skin had been too small for my body. And this area doesn't seems this way anymore.'' He touched the underlying tissues between the strips of flesh, wiping off the blood as he did so, revealing a second layer of new skin. Taken aback at first, the scavenger gathered himself together ''Give me a knife'' he demanded.

''We should take you back to the labs to we make sure this is safe. We don't know what could happ…''

''Just shut up and give me a knife…please.'' He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his nerves. ''I can't continue like this anymore, I need to get out. I don't sleep, the pressure is maddening and I can't think clearly anymore. Please, just help me feel better. I want out.''

His voice was calm, confident, reassuring to a certain degree, prompting the large female to do as he asked. ''I'll do it myself, no need to risk damaging the skin underneath. For all we know it could be sensitive to infections.'' She kneeled to his side, a knife unnecessary for the operation at hand, her claws as sharp as any blade aboard the ship, excluding Tox's of course. Using her left hand to pry the skin further apart, she carefully slid her claw between the old and new skin, slowly pushing forward to rip it up to the line of his rolled pants. ''Take off those things, I cant go further with them on.''

The scavenger promptly did as he was asked, accidently causing more skin to rip like wet newspaper, uncovering most of his leg. The new skin looked normal at first but once exposed to air it rapidly began to change, dark areas similar to fresh bruises starting to manifest themselves on the exterior face of his thigh and calve. But to finally have that damn pressure removed silenced any interrogations or fear he had for now. Limb by limb the skin was cut and discarded, some areas the scavenger did by himself, even though is nakedness didn't seem to bother the large female at all, herself lightly clothed.

It took more than a hour, but when the remainder of his old face was at last removed Tox couldn't help but feel completely relieved, all discomfort gone, the oppressive pressure of the last week now a memory. He stretched and delicately touched his new epidermis, still filthy with his own luminescent blood. He brought a hand to his head, surprised to feel hairs flattened on top of his skull , having probably grew this way when they had to accommodate for the small space available. He turned to Ara'ni-sila; ''Do you have some water and a piece of cloth ? I'd like to wash myself if that's possible.''

Occupied at manipulating the removed flesh with curiosity, the Yautja pointed the corridor: ''Third room to the left. Just walk to a cabin and wait, it will activate by itself. Once you're done come to the labs, I want to look at you and run some tests on this new skin of yours. If you feel anything strange, you come to me immediately, got it ?'' She hoped she didn't sound too motherly, her warrior side slapping her mentally across the face to be so interested in that Ooman case. '' I still need you to beat the crap out of Juka'fero'' she added to somewhat explain why she cared for his survival. He left, leaving bloody footprints behind him as if he'd been skinned alive. Ara'ni-sila gathered fragments of glowing flesh from the floor before walking out toward her lab, impatient to have a closer look.

The cabin made short work of Tox's filth, powerful water hoses placed on its walls showering him with vigor from all sides. In a few seconds the scavenger was as clean as he ever was, his new, apparently thicker skin now visible. Using the reflection of a highly polished wall he looked at himself from all angles, surprised to find that the dark spots on his shoulders, forearms, sides, thighs, calves and top of his feet were darkening, slowly turning into defined blots similar to those he'd seen on the creatures. By the looks of things some were about to show themselves on each side of his throat up to his ears and under a portion of his jaw. His hairs were also different; sure it had been a while since he'd seen himself without dreadlocks, but he knew they didn't look like that. Every single air seemed bigger, thicker, growing away from his face in perfect, rigid lines and the tip feeling like a spike. Any attempts to comb them forward were futile, realigning almost instantly. His face was the same, but any scars he had were gone, the skin smooth, without defects, like a newborn.

His life was so messed up, the scavenger didn't what to do, what to think of it now. Had this happened on earth he would've put a bullet through his head the minute that rip occurred, but here, among creatures like these, nothing was too weird. The arid planet that he unwillingly left for this ship was just a testament to a race who proved itself unworthy of the intelligence it had acquired, and nothing there remained for him.

Tox had to admit he felt like grabbing his head and howling until he'd wake up from this psychedelic nightmare but he knew all this to be true, he'd tried several times. As unlikely as the situation seemed, the scavenger knew he needed to make the best of it. Tox had lived in one hell all his life, why would this one be any worst ? The monsters looked different yes, but they were the same as those on his planet, only here you could see right away who was one.

Here he was fed everyday, given as much water as he wanted and had a bed, well more like a hammock, to sleep in every nights instead of a pile of rubble and a cape. All he had to do to keep this was win a duel against a seven foot mass of muscles and rage. One little duel.

_Piece of cake…_he thought.


	4. Chapter 3 part 2

-Chapter 3.5-

On the other side of the ship, beyond the locked doors of the labs, the air stank of the musky, primal smell of male Yautja in training. Everywhere were scattered pieces of equipment, discarded or broken weapons and training masks. Down in the hunters hall, amidst the columns, the four younglings breathed heavily, cuts and bruises covering their muscular bodies. But none were hurt as much as Juka'fero, his face swollen, most of his claws broken and his side bleeding from the cut he sustained during his battle with the Ooman, the wound unable to close properly under the sadistic training schedule of the arbitrator.

It is with disgust that Yuta'nektil looked at his students, their blood still on his fists. Ever since the Sister had locked herself in the bottom portion of the ship with her human protégé he'd driven the Young Bloods hard, making them fight each other constantly under his watchful eyes. At the smallest sign of fatigue or sloppiness he made an example of the unfortunate, beating him until he couldn't stand before juicing him up with a medicomp so he could return to his training. This cycle had gone on for revolutions at a time, savagely draining every younglings.

'' Is that all you can do ?'' Yuta'nektil frowned, his top mandibles open to express his discontent. ''Don't you all realize what's at stake here ? Haven't you understood the consequences that will fall upon us if Juka'fero should fail ?''

''Like that's gonna happen'' snickered Teref'sul under his heavy breathing, slipping a look at the broken Yautja near him. He was brought to order by Basj'shank, elbowing him in the ribs to shut him up.

''That Ooman in the labs can bring us a world of pain if we let him, to underestimate him and his new ''guardian'' might be the worst mistake we could do now ! If you slack off you will bring me shame, and believe me when I say I'm ready to kill any one of you to retain my honor. That sneaky attack the Ooman pulled off on Juka'fero was a direct insult to our code, and if the female want him to be treated as one of us, then he should pay for what he has done !'' He had growled the last sentence, his words seeping with hate and venom. ''When I'm done with you all, I hope you will know better than to let a prey spot you, unlike this IDIOT !'' He kicked Juka'fero as hard as his legs could, the kneeling youngling receiving the blow directly on his unprotected face, sending him to the ground for yet another time. He stared at his downed student for a few seconds. ''You can rest for now, we'll start again tomorrow.''

On that he left, soon followed by three of his students, each eager to crash down in their hammock to rest their over-used bodies. Left behind, lying motionless against the floor, Juka'fero hissed his pain through his bleeding teeth. Every inches of his being were in pain, screaming their agony continuously. Grunting and heaving he slowly brought a hand to his face, snapping a broken mandible back in place so it would heal properly, gagging in silent suffering when the deed was done.

Beneath his shattered husk he fueled a deep, unstoppable hate for the architects of his present condition. He hated both of them, the Ooman more than anything, promising himself to return every blow he'd suffered because of his untimely arrival back in that tower. When he'd woken up in his quarters a revolution after the events, his quick, manipulative mind had forged a story to tell when he would be asked what had happened. Twisting voraciously the facts to turn it to his advantage, Juka'fero had told to anyone who wanted to hear that the Ooman, under the threats of the Sister, had ambushed him after she'd lead the Young Blood in the building. After pushing the Ooman aside when he managed to stab him a few times, caught off guard by the attack, Juka'fero had spotted the cloaked female near him before she rushed toward him, her wrist blades out to finish him off. He had then managed to bring her down and pin her to the floor using Kuji'janah spear launcher before being stabbed again by the Ooman when he had his back turned to him. The rest was a blur.

His lies had worked both on the arbitrator and all the other students, drinking his every word like the last source of liquid in the galaxy. Juka'fero had mounted the whole group against the Sister, ensuring they would stay focused on her and her pet instead of him. Through collateral damage he was severely reprimanded for his lack of judgment during his assignment, bringing him corporal harm and psychological torture. He hadn't been fed for three revolutions, only receiving small amounts of water to keep him hydrated, the usual punishment for a reckless move. The punches and kicks were a bonus for being a thorn in his teacher side.

Reaching for his left bracer, he tapped in a series of buttons and manipulated some sliders, prompting the piece of equipment to release a large dose of pain killers and stimulant, jolting him out of his misery so he had the strength to stand up and limp his way to his personal quarters.

Despite the appearances, he grew stronger every day, his skin hardening under the repeated assaults of his teacher and companions, his resistance to pain more effective than ever before. Only eight revolutions, and yet he already felt ready for this mockery that was supposed to be a trial. If he needed to eviscerate this Ooman before the council so the Shurras claims would be ignored, he'd happily do it, eager to feel the pulse of that puny creature stop when he'd rip its head from its shoulders. Afterward he would ask for the right to hunt down the Sister himself, wish he'd probably be granted since his victory would prove he was the one wrongfully accused. Her head would finish on his wall, a trophy upon which to build his grim collection.

He smirked has best as he could, dragging himself across the corridor to his quarters

''So, am I going to die or what ?'' asked the scavenger, palpating his new flesh with interest while the large female conducted tests upon a console in the medlab. The queasiness of the last few days were entirely gone, the maddening itches and aches gone the minute he'd removed his old, scarred skin. What was driving him mad now was why he felt that little fear for the present situation, so little anguish for the recent events that had turned his solitary life upside down ?

Him who couldn't stand the few laws of his world now copped with the traditions and beliefs of a race of humanoids who had almost killed him on their first encounter. Tox, the scavenger who wouldn't let himself get attached to someone or to a place to retain his freedom was now collared like a dog on board a vessel even his wildest imagination couldn't even fathom with no escape possible. A week ago Tox would've spent every waking moments trying to find a way out, off the ship, but now with the realization that back on earth his life was a meaningless string of unimportant and hurtful events, most of his former vigor was gone, replaced with a mix of anticipation, stress, slight depression and an ounce of periodical terror. If what the creature had told him was true, then if he won that thing, that battle or whatever, he'd be free to go as he please, unrestrained and alone, a real loner.

''You said you felt itchy for a while, right ?'' the Yautja asked, her eyes locked on her screen. ''I think I found why.''

She distanced herself from the console, allowing Tox to have a look. A quick peak confirmed that he knew nothing of the Yautjan language, staring blankly at the screen for a few second before giving up. Sighing deeply the female started to explain:

''If I simplify it, I'd say you just entered your Unblooded phase.'' Having no reaction, she tried again. ''You will soon be fit to hunt.'' The look on the Ooman's face told her he didn't get that either. Losing patience she scrapped the bottom of her brain to find words he would understand. ''You are growing from a youngling to an adult, got it ?'' _If he makes that stupid face again I punch him in the teeth_ she thought.

Finally understanding what she meant, he corrected her: ''You're wrong, I've already been through that. I'm fully grown now.'' The growl that came from the female didn't reassure him.

''You idiotic meat, that's what I meant by '' I think I found why you were so itchy'', or else I wouldn't have wasted my time trying to make you understand a bunch of simple words an actual youngling would've get !'' She calmed herself by punching the examination table nearest to her, leaving a very distinct fist shaped repression on the metal. ''What I mean is that your body, for some reasons, as started to change just like one of my people when we hit…puberty.'' The translation device glitched for a few seconds, searching his database for a term similar in both the Ooman and Yautjan language. It had done this ever since it began calibrating when Ara'ni-sila put the collar on her protégé a few revolutions ago.

''So what ? Just like that I'm mutating into one of you guys ?'' _Just keeps getting better and better._

''No, something triggered it.'' She entered some codes on the console, scrolling through different graphics and chemical results until she found what she was looking for. ''Just as I thought. The tissue booster attached itself to your blood cells to spread throughout your body. It saturated your bone marrow first and then began pumping out toxins that destroyed most of your existing dna and replaced it with his own. That's what gave your blood this luminescence; the toxins are sensible to oxygen, which disrupt its internal chemical balance, allowing two chemicals to momentarily mix, creating a bright bioluminescence. Not practical when you have to stalk a prey in the dark and you're bleeding.''

Tox didn't understand half of what the female said, only getting that what saved his life was also fucking with his blood. ''So why did I outgrow my skin ? You have an answer for that ?''

''If I had to take a guess, I'd say that once your dna was rewritten, your body simply rejected what it perceived as a foreign element, growing a new one under it to purposefully detach it.''

That made sense to the scavenger. ''Like a snake… What about my organs ? Am I going to vomit my lungs when my body reject them ?'' An affirmative wouldn't had surprised him, seeing as how well his life was going for the moment. The idea didn't rejoice him one bit.

The female growled, amused at the image. ''You have more chances of growing a third arm than doing that. The tissue booster bonded with your internal organs almost instantly and mutated the flesh to fit its genetic makeup, probably a way to protect the body from any possible rejections. It worked from the inside out, starting with the veins then the bone marrow before traveling to the organs. By the time it reached the skin your body had changed too much and it simply destroyed the conjunctives tissues holding it to the muscles.'' She paused and looked at the human. ''You didn't get any of that, did you ?'' Frustration was slowly tunneling its way into her head.

'' I have to admit I phase in and out but I think I understand.'' In the ruins he was considered bright, but in here he felt like the last of the idiots. Those creatures had it all, the skills, the strength, and the brains. On earth, this combination only meant one thing: troubles. And those humanoids seemed to like them. ''So you're telling me its not dangerous, that I won't suddenly drop dead or explode, right ?''

''I don't see how you could blow up all by yourself, but yes, the risks for dangerous developments is minimal…Meaning I can keep beating the shit out of you until we arrive on the home ship.'' She cracked her knuckles against her palm, emphasizing her words.

Tox jumped back, surprised and confused. ''You said we were equals ! What the hell is that all about ?'

Ara'ni-sila growled a laugh, her red eyes locked on her target. ''No duel is worth anything if it is stopped. There can be only one victor and one defeated. No deals, no draw, no weaknesses. I stopped the fight because you weren't acting like yourself and I got interested. Had I wanted to you'd now be a shapeless pile of meat and broken bones smashed into the training room floor. The whole point of that battle was to cool you off, make you more docile, and I see that it worked.''

All sense of accomplishment that Tox had disappeared instantly, leaving a cold nothingness behind. These creatures were not human, their sense of moral was twisted it seemed, choosing manipulation over honesty any chances they got, not hesitating to use their peers as some sort of unwilling pawns in plans only they understood. The scavenger felt thrown around like a puppet, manipulated from all angles but too stupid to understand it. If he got angry again, would that be what the creature wanted ? Whatever his reaction, he felt like he wasn't in control of anything anymore, probably since he entered that building. He was a giant pet on an invisible leash that lead him directly into an inferno, and he was naive enough to jump right in it. But at this point, what choices did he had ?

Despite his pride, ignoring his yearning for freedom and loneliness, he made a pact with himself; should he get out of this alive and well he'd seek out a solitary world empty of intelligent beings, away from lies and manipulation, and establish himself there for the rest of his life. The humanoids seemed to possess the means necessary to accomplish such a task and he would demand it the duel over. But until then, he was to bow his neck before the female and do whatever she asked. He'd understood that rebellion in here was a waste of time; even if this one was subdued, how would he take care of the five others living beyond the locked doors ? A plan like this was a failure to happen, his experience told him that.

Looking back at the female he forced his face to remain blank, a trick he learned to do when he traded with merchants and fellow scavengers so they never really knew who they had in front off them, and said with his most calm and colorless voice; ''Like I said before, you're a bitch, and a manipulative one too.''

Ara'ni-sila looked at him, surprised to obtain only this unimpressive response from him. Instead of his moody, nervous self he seemed to have devolved back to his calm, calculating and posed demeanor of the first few revolutions, before the itching drove him to voice his frustrations. Whether this was a sign of submission or just a plan so she would her guard down, the female decided to go with it for now anyway. ''You can call me whatever you want, as long as you put every ounce of your Ooman determination in the training. If you slack off, I will bring you back to order, do you understand ?'' The Ooman nodded, a thing he did when he approved. Satisfied, she continued: ''You still have much to learn, and we possess little to no time to teach you.''

''Then stop talking about it and lets get going'' he replied, the scavenger eager to punch the large female once again.

''Something doesn't feel right. I'm telling you, my guts don't like this one.''

Basj'shank looked at Kuji'janah, the thin male visibly nervous. ''Calm down and relax, Juka'fero's gonna kick that Ooman ass, probably kill the female, then all will be back to normal. Its no big deal really.'' The giant Yautja stretched his arms before placing them behind his crested head, the hammock he lied in comfortable after the revolutions he'd just been through. ''You worry too much, and you're going to be a pain if you don't find a way to control yourself before we go hunting together.''

''That's cycles away brother, we'll be stuck with the arbitrator for twelve more cycles.'' The sniper sighed, eager to finally track a prey without an old hunter breathing down his neck. ''You really don't find this situation strange in any way ?'' Kuji'janah asked again.

Basj'shank thought, before replying: ''Sure letting the Ooman on board wasn't exactly a bright move, but were dealing with decisions taken by an arbitrator and a Sila Sister. Their logic is far more advanced than ours I heard, we shouldn't even try to understand them.'' He stopped, lowering his head on the pack of rolled fur that was his pillow. ''I know I don't.''

''Maybe that's the problem ! No one ever thinks of contradicting them, to think they might be wrong. I looked at Juka'fero, and he isn't acting like someone who's been wrongfully accused.''

Not even opening his eyes, the male replied: ''What do you mean ?''

Pacing around Basj'shank quarters, the light male started: ''Well, as a sniper it's my job to observe and catalog my targets habits so I know how they're going to react once I engage them. I can't even control it anymore, I just watch and learn. That's how I know when you're going to try to punch me.'' There was some annoyed growling coming from the hammock but he ignored them. ''Ever since we brought him back on the ship, Juka'fero body language is all messed up.''

''He can barely walk because of the training, it's a little normal he acts differently.''

''Not when he fight, when he talk. He doesn't seem to speak naturally when you ask questions about what happened, some words he trails on as if he try to remember a text. And even if he has his hands behind his back, I can tell he's fidgeting with the tip of his claws.''

''If you can see that then the arbitrator has.'' Sleep was slowly climbing his way up Basj'shank spine, numbing his thoughts and gluing him to the hammock. He Yawned, his serrated mandibles stretching in all directions.

''That's what worries me'' whispered the sniper, knowing his companion didn't care anymore for his words and just wanted to rest. Hissing a goodbye he exited the room, walking across the corridor to his own.

Both males had become close partner since the beginning of the training, their clans already sharing some manner of alliance. While they bickered most of the time over who was the strongest or the most useful in a fight, both males knew they could count on each other.

The hermetic door slid open, revealing a softly lit, well organized room containing a large number of tools. Most of those the young male used to adjust, clean and repair long range projectile weapons. Some of them were disassembled, awaiting maintenance or just plain broken, their pieces kept as spares. Pouches by the dozens containing ammunition were clamped to the wall, each of them holding ten spear tips, completely cancelling the possibility he might run out by the time they docked back on the home ship.

With a relieved sigh he detached the many pieces that formed his armor, each of those falling to the floor in a symphony of metallic thumps. Kuji'janah liked to keep his quarters clean, at the opposite of Basj'shank's which was as organized as a hunter hut, trophies lying around everywhere, weapons placed wherever they could be and incent floating around. The tribal beliefs of his clan prompted them to accept chaos as part of their daily lives, a way they said to confuse spirits who might try to escape the skulls they inhabited, with the incent acting as some kind of anesthetic to put them to rest.

Some hunters mocked followers of old religions, while other used them to help gain the calm and confidence necessary to undertake high profile hunt. More popular among planet bound clans, who resided and hunted on the same planet for generations, multiple beliefs system existed, all containing a set of very strict rules and codes which had to be abided to in addition to the regular set each individuals had to cope with. Basj'shank rules were simple; to prevent a target spirit to leave its body when it was brought down, it had to be slain with his hands, or an extension of it, which forced him to eliminate every one of his prey hand-to-hand, otherwise the strength he was supposed to acquire through the kill would simply vanish, unable to follow the blood to the hunter. The skull of the hunter's most prestigious kill had to be made into a helmet, so the ferocious soul would accompany him always, fueling him with spiritual energy.

Kuji'janah had witnessed the full strength of the giant male, afraid and relieved that such a beast was among them. He fought like a crazed animal, relentlessly assaulting his targets until they were but a pulp under his fists. No amount of physical damage had stopped him from getting to a prey, not even falling back to rest for a moment. He just ran and killed. Aside from a retractable spear and his standard wrist blades he possessed no other weapons, discarding most of them in his earlier years as he built his preferences.

It wasn't by choice that Kuji'janah used a spear launcher, but by necessity; his clan hunted flying creatures almost exclusively, ruling any possibility to use a close range weapon, unless you were the stealthiest of the hunter. Most of his clan still traveled the stars, but some permanent settlements had been established on a moon inhabited by beasts the size of ships, their wings creating whirlwind so powerful it could knock you down. Once his Blooded status obtained, that's where he would be heading first. The male would find one of those giants and bring him down, rewarding him the respect he craved.

Taking the time to wash himself before lying down in his hammock, Kuji'janah mind wandered off by itself, bringing confusing images and random memories until it stopped on something the male hadn't realized before; he knew nothing of the smallest of the group, the one named Teref'sul. Eight cycles had passed, and yet he remained an enigma to the sniper.

He'd arrived moments before the shuttle that took them to the arbitrator ship departed, already in full gear as if he'd been hunting just a few moments ago. He hadn't spoke much, only uttering a few short words when he responded to a question. He had been this way the whole time, quiet and sneaky, spending most of his time under his cloak. All Kuji'janah knew about his clan was that they were Kainde Amedha hunters, some of the best. Proof of that being his armor, entirely carved in the chitinous carapaces of many of those creatures.

That scythe of his was of a design so abstract it took the younglings some time to learn how to counterattack and block it properly, the curved blade still the objects of many complaints and praise among the students. While impressive and destabilizing, the weapon had one drawback: its size. The scythe worked well at medium range but the shape of the blade rendered it almost useless in close quarters, forcing the user to continue the fight using his wrist blades.

Since the first hunt Teref'sul had been designated the scout of the group, always far ahead of them to make sure the way was safe. For Kuji'janah it was the opposite; he found high grounds and made sure nobody was trailing them. Had Juka'fero not been there, all agreed the quiet, small Yautja would've been the teacher favorite, no doubt. For a Young Blood he possessed enough Kainde Amedha trophies to enrage a veteran hunter and he could sneak up behind anything and kill it without a sound, a skill the younglings had trouble grasping.

The slight swaying of the hammock put his body at ease, Kuji'janah already feeling his tired muscle relaxing for the first time in two revolutions. Not so long ago the image of the Sister would float into his head the moment he'd close his eyes, has dangerous and ferocious has she was, but this night it was the Ooman that imposed itself to his mind.

As small as Teref'sul was, the Ooman was smaller, its unimpressive physique hidden under layers of clothes. The sniper had never understood what had been the appeal of such a prey; they were weak, unable to defend themselves without the use of weapons, their sentience supposed to make them hard to kill. The few that remained had not been actively hunted, left alone so the species could grow again, but reports from the hunters who did participate in a hunt said they'd matured in their defensive and offensive techniques, unable to rely on technology anymore.

The group had been excited to visit such a world, but it seemed they would have been better off if they hadn't. The seemingly empty world had spewed a single threat and they had walked right in it, worst they brought it back with them. Left alone with the Sister, who knew what it could do ? Did the Ooman knew what was going on, what he was about to face ? Juka'fero was pissed at him, meaning that when the signal would be given for the fight to start it was going to be fast, and more likely brutal. Anything in his way would suffer, no questions about that.

By now the Ooman could have been dead, killed by the Sister with a single punch. With no communications between the labs and the rest of the ship, the two were pretty much alone, free to plot or to train as they pleased. That made everyone nervous; the Sister had more than sufficient knowledge of the ships engine to make it blow up if she wanted to, the only reassuring fact being that there were no escape pods near the labs meaning only a suicide attack could take place, which sounded very unlikely.

Yawning one last time, Kuji'janah allowed sleep to fill his body and mind, his spear launcher lying on the wall near his hand…just in case.


	5. Chapter 4 preview first page

-Chapter 4-

Time passed, like it always did, each day bringing its share of pain, knowledge, sweat and sometimes tears. Tox had never felt so alone, so lost, not since his sister met her fate at the hands of disgusting cowards. Somehow, knowing he was the only one of his race aboard the vessel seemed to drive him deeper into a sort of depression that had settled in some weeks ago. When he was on his planet he would try to avoid human contacts as much as possible, but now he longed for the clear sound of another human voice, to finally hear words he could really understand instead of the gibberish that was automatically translated by the collar around his neck.

He regularly looked at his reflection, wondering if the term human could still be applied to his person, the leathery skin that now covered his body a grotesque mockery of his soft flesh that had been stripped away from him weeks ago. As much as he wanted to persuade himself that deep down he was still the scavenger that had once roamed the blasted remains of the many cities of his world, he knew that little by little his humanity was being chipped away by the constant training of the ferocious beast that had protected him when he was at his weakest. The amount of knowledge he absorbed day by day was slowly molding his body and mind into something different, something alien.

He held on to his last shreds of humanity by wearing some of his old clothes, the dusty smell of the ruins still clinging to them, the scent keeping his memories fresh. The nightmares he once loathed were now a welcomed events; they were signs that even though he'd changed, somewhere into that husk of his the old Tox was still there, silently mourning his sibling.

His malnourished body had become hard, his mind sharp. Each punch he received, every kick he blocked were making stronger, faster, the muscles bulging more and more, giving his once light frame the details of the most perfect Greek statue. But he found no pleasure in it. What made him that way was the extract stolen from the bodies of the weakened younglings that hadn't proven themselves worthy of being part of a masochistic society. Whatever skills he had acquired he owed it to them. Without it his human shell would have been broken beyond repair, his being probably reduced to a pulp of flesh and bone.

He never thought he would miss the unwelcome landscape of Earth, but out here in this ship that silently soared through space, bringing him closer and closer to a fight he now had doubts about, the sound of the wind that engulfed itself through the shattered remains of the tall, lifeless buildings would have been the sweetest of music to his ears. Confined between the thick hull, only barrier against the void of space, all he could perceive were the low humming of the engines or the sudden beeping of a console, all mechanical sounds, nothing real, nothing natural. He felt trapped in a world of metal and wires.


End file.
